Never Said I Didn't
by purelyamuse
Summary: Edward is finally ready to play ball, but is Bella? Is it too late? The bases are loaded. He's just waiting for Bella to give him the signal to run. EPOV, Human, HS.
1. Chapter 1 Hunt

**Never Said I Didn't by Purelyamuse**

**Summary: Edward is finally ready to play ball, but is Bella? Is it too late? The bases are loaded. He's just waiting for Bella to give him the signal to run. EPOV, Human, HS.**

**Prereaders: _ss77_, modernsafari1, cejsmom, ameliabedelia**

**Betas: Dinx, Perry Maxwell (chapters 1 and 2 only) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

**A/N: This story was written using June 2012 witfit prompts. I am pathetic, I know. **

**Playlist: Someday by Rob Thomas**

**Word Prompt: Hunt**

**Dialogue Flex: "She needs time to heal," he said.**

**Chapter 1**

"The thing is, your father and I . . . we need to be apart for a while."

This is not happening.

Dad's even-keeled when he speaks up, like he's giving a presentation. He did that today as evidenced by the suit he's wearing. He's a family doctor and has his own practice, but he's fairly popular in his field, having published a few books. "Right, and that doesn't mean we won't both be a big part of your life."

_Like you ever were_. I look to my mother, who's rolling her eyes.

"We will do our best to make sure this has no effect on you," she says, giving me sympathetic eyes.

"Of course, though, you'll need to pick up some slack at home. Keep things tidy."

I fully expect Dad to produce a chore chart at this point. I wouldn't put it past him.

"Carlisle," my mother says, rubbing her temples, "he doesn't have to do anything. I'll still help out."

"How? With the office and a new place? You won't have time."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, too. I'm looking into some other options. For work." Mom sounds confident.

"That's ridiculous. You've been working for me for years. There's no need to leave," Dad says decisively. "You'll be busy at the office, so Edward can do his share around the house."

"Why don't you do his share?" Mom grits out.

"You know how busy I am at work; my patients depend on me."

"Your family depends on you, and we never see you."

"You see me every day. We work together, for crying out loud."

"That doesn't mean you see me. You never see me. You've never seen us. None of us. Not even when Katie and Garrett were home. We've always been on our own."

_And now I'll really be alone._ My mind wanders a street away to a sweet girl with long dark hair, big brown eyes, and a kind heart with love enough to spare. Bella Swan. I need to get to her before I blow.

"I have always provided for this family. You have always had a roof over your head. Clothes on your back. Food on your table."

"That you never sat at. You're not listening to me, Carlisle. I just mean—"

"What we mean to say," my dad begins, his voice irritatingly calm as he cuts off my mother, "is that we need some time. She needs time to heal."

"I don't—this isn't just about me." My mother narrows her eyes at Dad, and I wish she had a super power to make him shrink. He's such an idiot at times. "It's about all of us, which is why we wanted to talk to you tonight, why we needed to—"

"I can't listen to this," I say and push my kitchen chair out. It scrapes nosily as it goes. I head to my room, my mother following, saying who knows what. I feel bad, but I have to get out of here.

I ignore her as I rifle through my things, searching for my keys. Where did Bella put them? We rented a bad superhero movie last night—my choice, not hers—and when we returned home she playfully had hidden my keys, announcing I would never choose the movie again. In her defense, this was the fourth one in a row I'd made her watch. She doesn't seem to mind too much, so I pick what I want. Explosions are fun, and who doesn't love to laugh at a famous dude who wears spandex?

I scan the small shelf above my bed and spot them next to the only picture there. It's of the two of us celebrating last year when both the men's and women's ball teams took State. I snag them and my favorite E cap, march out of my room, down the hallway, and out the front door.

I wish my mother wasn't so close so I could slam it. I want to slam something. I manage to put my hat on in a rough manner, not even bothering to smooth my hair back. I saunter to my car as she screams from behind me. "Where are you going, Edward? We need to talk about this."

"I don't," I mumble to myself as I fit the key into the door of my old Toyota Camry.

"We've thought a lot about this. This isn't a quick decision." Her words are quieter, resigned.

"Good for you. Bye, Mom," I say as I duck inside and start the engine. As I pull out of the driveway my mother's image, all slumped shoulders and slack jaw, burns itself in my memory. I maneuver the steering wheel and get the hell out of there as quickly as I can.

I pull around Fourth Street, heading to Bella's.

_Please, please, please be home. _

The car idles in her driveway as I run the few steps to her entryway and bang on her door—my door, only blue instead of white. It should be jarring as her home looks just like mine—same floor plan and all; we even have the same room—but it's not because I've been coming here since I was in diapers. Before then, even.

Our homes are on two different streets, but the backyards butt up against each other. She's on Fourth Street, and I'm on Third, which she loves since we're both baseball junkies. She's always saying she hit a home run when I've only scored a triple. Truth is, we're both damn good at ball. And I don't care that she razzes me. It's all in good fun.

I knock again, but no one answers. Her dad, Charlie, works odd hours as a plumber, so I never know if he'll be home or not. I don't really care, though. He's nice and all, taught me a ton about ball when I was a kid, but it's his daughter I come to see.

But, dammit all to hell, she's not home, either.

I slam my fist into her door again, this time screaming her name. That should help.

But it doesn't, and I get the same outcome. I'm still alone. Only now I look crazy.

I slip back into my car, keeping my legs outside and send her a text.

_Where are you?—E_

I wait a minute.

Two.

Three.

She doesn't respond. She's probably at that party Tanya begged me to take her to. My parents fought all week, and I just haven't been in the party mood. But now I may have to make an appearance.

I head to Marcus's, checking my phone constantly—even when I shouldn't, according to Bella. When I pull up to his house I search for her stupid Geo Metro, but it's not there. She probably carpooled.

She still hasn't texted me back. I pocket my phone and head inside.

There's a pool of my friends slouching in the dark, making out on the couch, laughing too loudly in the kitchen for it to be genuine. Do I like this? Do I really find these things fun? Did I ever? Yeah, I guess I did. But why?

Why did I find this fun when my parents' marriage dissolved around me and I did nothing to stop it? Why didn't I—

"Edward! You came! I knew you would!" Tanya runs toward me, her light blonde curls and large gold, dangly earrings swaying as she goes.

It's good to see a familiar face, a friendly face, so I wrap her in my arms and hug her, breathing in her girly smell. It's so nice, I want to stay in it. Stay in it, get drunk, and never leave. Never have to go back home to my lying parents again.

She pulls away from me and presses her hands to my cheeks. She leans in for a kiss, but I stop her with my words. "Have you seen Bella?"

"Bella? Oh, um, she was here, but then she took off with Jake. She was bored or something. Whatever. I don't know how you can get bored here. I couldn't. Especially now that you're here." She wraps her hand around mine and swings it back and forth.

I smile at the simple gesture and feel lucky to have her in my life. I'm glad I asked her to Homecoming at the beginning of the school year. We've been together ever since. She's a sweetheart. A little girly, but I don't mind. She takes care of herself and looks nice. What's to complain about?

"So . . . I was gonna play pool. You want to?"

"Game on," I say, forgetting my problems and following Tanya downstairs to Marcus's basement.

**-NSID-**

The game was fun. A good distraction. But now it's over, and Tanya's chatting with her girlfriends about make-up and eyebrow waxing; I'm out of distractions. All my boys have their girlfriends here and are macking on them, or trying to mack on them, so they're no help.

Where's Bella?

Just as I think the words, my butt moos. I laugh as Tanya scowls. She doesn't think it's very funny. I do; so does Bella. She's the one who put the ringtone there.

_I'm home. Where're you? Not driving, I hope! Call me. –B _

I dial her immediately.

"I'm at Marcus's."

"I was just there. Bailed when the hair connection showed up."

"Of course you did." I peer around at Tanya and her friends, and they are all way too put together. Hair in place, matching purses and shoes and belts and earrings. Everything's perfect. Too perfect. Like they're pretending.

"You want me to come back?" Bella's just being nice. I know she left for a reason.

"No, it's cool. Tanya's here."

"Oh, well if Tanya's there . . ."

"She is my girlfriend, you know."

"Oh, I know. Everyone knows. No one can miss it, believe me, with the way she flaunts you about the school like a prize."

"Are you saying I'm not a prize? I'm frowning right now, by the way. A big ol' puppy dog frown." This is the most fun I've had all day. Except when I mowed the back lawn and Bella played aim for Edward Cullen's head with some wiffle balls.

"Uh huh. Well, you're not as good as a Cracker Jack's prize. Those last forever."

"Forever? Please," I scoff.

"Don't tell me you forgot the Easter tattoo fiasco?"

I laugh out loud. "Gran Swan was ready to murder you. That thing was right on your bicep—bold and beautiful, like you."

"I didn't know she'd get me a sleeveless dress. How could I have known?"

"I know. I'm surprised she didn't just buy you combat boots. Or better, some boxers. You wanted some of those."

"I did not!" She's such a bad liar. Has a terrible guilty conscience, too.

"You've stolen four pair!"

"I still have them, too. Wearing the penguin ones now. Which ones are you wearing? Hmm?"

"Like I'd tell you." I would, actually. It doesn't really matter. Bella's my guy. Or something.

"S'all good. Tanya will tell her gals tomorrow, and by Monday the whole locker room will know."

"She would not."

"Mmm hmm," she says, all innocence.

"Would she? Has she?" Now I'm curious. Does Tanya kiss and tell?

"Uh uh. My lips are sealed. You know I don't do girl talk."

"Good."

Tanya tugs on my arm, and I make a face, slipping away. She giggles at my silly game, swatting at the air. Really, I don't want her to bug me or hear what I'm saying. Bella's a good distraction right now. But seeing as that's rude, and I try to be a good boyfriend, I say, "We can talk later. I'm being summoned."

"I'm sure you are."

"You miss me, I know," I say, grinning ear to ear, waiting for her line.

"Never said I didn't."

The next thing I know, Tanya's in my car, and we're heading to Green Point. How did that happen? I'm not really in the mood for that right now, but I keep driving. I pull up and park near the stinky bathrooms. The stalls have no doors. Like anyone goes in there. I don't want to see that.

Tanya slips her hand in mine, and I force a smile as she looks up at me. She leads us to the picnic benches and sits atop the table, patting the spot beside her. I choose to stay standing.

"I missed you today," she says quietly. It's code for 'come kiss me.' Every girl uses it, but I choose to ignore it right now.

"We went out last night," I say, scuffing my foot on the large, oval-shaped slab of concrete beneath me.

"It's still true." She leans her hands back on the table, forcing her chest out. She looks to the sky, elongating her neck. She does that a lot, and I usually swoop in and deliver a kiss, sometimes a hickey, but not today.

"I think my parents are getting divorced," I say quickly, wanting to just get it out and fast. I play with the brim of my cap, shaping it in my nervousness. It's stiff from overuse.

Tanya's head snaps up, and she makes direct eye contact. "Might be the right time. My parents waited too long. Wish they would've done it sooner. They're a lot happier now."

"I don't think they'll be happier. They love each other. They're just . . ." I don't know what they're just, really. But they're something. This isn't right. My parents can't get divorced.

"They seem pretty miserable to me. Last time I saw your mom, she was so fake with that plastered smile."

"She was having a bad day."

"Every day," Tanya mumbles.

"I was up early mowing the lawn. I'm ready for bed. Let's go." _Besides, I can't listen to your BS right now. Because you have no idea what you're talking about. You don't even know my parents._ I want to say all of this, but I don't.

Where's Bella?

As I drive Tanya home, she's all over me. Or trying to be. Putting my hand on her thigh, playing with my ear—which is annoying as hell—and running her fake nails across my belly. She's missing her ring finger acrylic, and the sensation of a four-fingered stomach scratch is not sexy.

I can't wait to drop her off and see if Bella's still up. Probably, as it is past ten-thirty, so Nick-at-Nite is on. It's been her thing since we were kids. She won't admit it, but it reminds her of Gran Swan, whom we all miss.

**-NSID-**

Finally alone, I swing into my driveway. Once inside, I ignore the light from my parents' room. I can't talk to them yet. I head to my room, pull off my polo, lose my belt, and toe off my shoes.

I wander through our home and into the kitchen, losing my cap at the last second, placing it atop our granite counter. The glass door slides open quietly, and I make my escape.

The grass is soft and cold on my feet as I pad through it. I step up on the block that's meant for Bella and use it to propel myself over the fence and into her back yard. My undershirt snags on the fence and tears a tiny bit. Could this day get any worse?

Sandy perks her ears up but doesn't make a peep. I pat her head then make my way to Bella's window. I tap three times, leaning over the scratchy bush Charlie planted under Bella's window to keep me out the year I turned thirteen. Like that did any good. Whatever.

The blinds spread, revealing Bella's eyes, and I nod for her to come outside.

Suddenly she's there, and I can breathe again.

I sit, cross-legged, petting Sandy. Bella sits beside me. She's just showered, her hair damp. She's in her PJs, and her knee socks are missing for some reason. It's weird seeing her without them. They've become such a part of her over the past few years, like her bat and glove.

She says nothing, just tucks her knees into her chest and rubs her legs. Up and down. Up and down, the sound soothing in the warm night air.

Sandy leaves us alone in favor of her dog house and comfy bed.

Bella hums the theme song to the Dick Van Dyke show absently, and I face her, smirking. She smiles back and continues the motions with her fingers up and down. She looks so tiny next to me, swallowed up in my old boxers. I pinch her thigh, saying, "Missed a spot."

"I did not," she says defensively. "No one shaves their thighs anyway. That hair's soft."

"Yeah, but this isn't," I say, rubbing my hand over her knee, right in the front. That one spot she always misses. She slaps my hand away and sighs, like she's so over my obnoxious behavior.

"I think they're getting a divorce," I blurt.

Bella leans in, laying her head against my shoulder, fitting in beside me. She wraps her arm around my bicep and runs her other hand up and down my forearm, that up and down sound of skin on skin just as soothing as it was before.

How does she do that? How does she know just what to do? Just what I need when I need it? She's the only one that can do it.

"I don't know what they're thinking. They're so—"

"Perfect together," Bella finishes.

"When they're together, when he's off work . . . they just—it's like—"

"It's meant to be," she finishes for me with a sigh.

"I know, so how can they even . . ." The words peter off, and I don't know what else to say. There's nothing else _to _say. Bella knows this, too. She says nothing, just keeps up the rhythm of her hand on my arm.

But even that—that contact, that connection—becomes too much. And emotion floods me, so much so, I think I won't be able to contain it.

I slap my hand over Bella's, halting her movement. I squeeze her fingers beneath my own and crush her knuckles together. If it hurts her, I wouldn't know; she doesn't complain. She's strong. I know she is. Stronger than me.

I stare at our hands, feeling my eyes burn as my throat is coated in a thick tightness I haven't felt in a long time. And I can't . . . I just . . . can't contain it.

I let out a shuddering breath, and as I inhale, Bella's hand cups my cheek. She gives me the courtesy of allowing me to keep my eyes cast downward. I don't want to be seen like this. She brushes away the first tear and lets me throw the weight of my head—and my broken heart—into her hand. And like the amazing ball player she is, she catches it and makes the play perfectly.

She draws me into her chest, cradling my head and lets me cry. I'm quiet, but my body convulses, which seems so much louder than any cry I've ever heard. My tears drop onto her thighs, sliding down to the backsides of her calves. Each tear takes a different path, winding its way around Bella's bare legs, like it was meant to be there, meant to slip around her smooth skin. And it is smooth. I know because I'm clutching her thighs in both of my hands, my thumbs stroking anywhere they can.

Bella sits quietly, her hands in my hair, humming a familiar tune we used to sing when we were tiny and Gran Swan would visit for the holidays. It was some sort of hymn, and the harmonies were always so pretty when Gran made Bella sing with her.

She sings, and I cry. And that's the way it goes until I'm out of tears and have nothing else to do but go home and face reality. But I don't want to do that. Not at all.

Completely drained, I squeeze Bella's legs and push against the ground to sit upright. Bella fixes my hair and keeps her eyes off mine, though I can't say I'm doing the same. The moon is bright tonight, highlighting her soft features. It reminds me of the time I noticed she had real curves when we went swimming fully clothed in Old Man Joe's pool the summer before we were freshmen. Freshmen. That seems like so long ago, as we are just months away from graduation.

I place my hand on hers once more to halt her movements and bring it down into my lap, covering it with my other hand. Her hand is tiny and callused from years of holding her bat just so. I rub my fingertips over it, feeling every groove, every bony knuckle, trying to find a way to say thank you. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being here tonight. Thank you for knowing me so well. For doing what I need, when I need. Always. Just thank you.

"Bella . . ." I say, my voice quiet and thick in that I-haven't-talked-in-so-long way.

Her eyes snap to mine. She holds me in her gaze like she held me in her lap, and I can't move, mesmerized by the way she looks at me.

Her hand's still in my lap, and I stroke experimentally, my thumb moving over her open palm and over her delicate wrist. Her eyes twitch, and I dart mine to her mouth, realizing she's holding her breath.

Good. She'll need it.

I grip the back of her neck and jerk her toward me, covering her mouth with mine. Her lips are soft and taste like mint, but she smells like vanilla. She opens her mouth wider and sneaks the tip of her tongue into my mouth. And, man, it feels good. It's the best thing I've felt all night. The best thing I've done all night. Hell, all day. Maybe even all freaking year.

That is . . . until Bella climbs into my lap, which is so much better. There's no pretense, no hesitation. She's rising up higher, her hands gripping my hair, her chest pressing into mine. My hands wrap around her lower back, keeping her where I want her, tight and close and safe. It makes me feel safe, too. Being with Bella like this.

Why haven't we been like this before? Why haven't we—

Bella cuts off my thoughts with a moan. A full-on feminine moan, and I can't help but laugh. I haven't seen her be girly in a long time. Even then it was in private, and I was spying. She's usually all cleats and knee socks and hair in a tight ponytail. But not tonight. Tonight, her hair drapes around us, like satin caressing my cheeks.

She jerks away from me, a scowl on her face. "What's so funny?" she asks, irritated by my chuckle.

"Nothing. You. This. Us."

"It's not funny," she says, dead serious.

"You're right." I clear my throat. "Sorry." I lean in again and kiss her, my tongue winding with hers, my hands slipping up her back. She's not wearing a bra. Not even a sports one. Images of Bella draped over my bed in her sports bra and loose basketball shorts reading her chemistry text pop into my brain. I slap that book away and jump on top of her, making her squeal as I suck on her neck.

The idea is absurd. This is Bella. _Bella_. I can't—we can't—but we are, and it feels right.

I chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation, and she pulls away again, looking absolutely scandalized.

"I'm—," I start but get cut off.

"Shut up, Edward."

"Yes, ma'am," I say, chuckling.

"I'm gonna like this," she says, grinning.

"Like what?"

"This. Us."

"Oh. Hmm." I tilt my head back and appraise the girl in my arms: tiny but muscular, strong but feminine, tomboy but beautiful, stunningly so. "Huh." I say, realizing what an idiot I've been all day. All these years.

"What?" she asks.

"I've been so miserable today. Just depressed and antsy and ignoring people I shouldn't have been. But all I needed was right here."

Bella smiles and runs her hands up my arms, over my biceps, and laces her fingers behind my neck. I gaze at her body, actually looking for once. When I reach her eyes, I smile and squeeze her hips. It's involuntary. It's like I have to squeeze something or I may float away in my shocked state of happiness.

"I've been on the hunt for this all day. Damn, I needed this. This release. Wish I woulda known just to come straight here. Woulda saved me some agony, some —"

Bella stiffens in my arms and stands unceremoniously. She doesn't look at me. She doesn't speak. She straightens out her boxers and walks on the balls of her feet to her back door. She slides it open and slips inside.

"What the hell did I just do?" I whisper, dropping my head in my hands.

**A/N: Well, hi! I'll be updating Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Pics, music, and teasers on my blog. Check out the beautiful banner by Twisted Lea there, too. No clue how many review replies I'll get to as it's summer (the kids are home *cries), and I'm writing a million other stories. But please know I appreciate each and every review. Thanks! Enjoy the ride!**


	2. Chapter 2 Stripe

**Word Prompt: Stripe**

**Chapter 2**

The first time I kissed Bella we were thirteen. Mike invited us to his birthday party where no adults were allowed downstairs. We played spin the bottle. When mine pointed toward Bella, no one was watching, so I flicked it with my finger so she wouldn't have to kiss me. We were best friends; it would've been weird.

I kissed Jessica instead, and Mike was pissed. Bella kissed Ben, and Angela was pissed.

Spin the bottle is a stupid game.

On my last turn, I landed on Bella again, and all eyes were on me. She crawled her way into the circle and closed her eyes, waiting for me. Her bottom lip trembled as I touched it with my thumb, whispering, "It'll be okay," before I kissed her.

She was a good kisser. Tentative, but good.

Last night was different, though. All tentativeness was gone. The way she clung to me, the way she breathed me in and devoured my lips was . . . carnal, instinctive, and I loved it. I want to do it again.

I spend my Sunday cleaning my room: stacking books on top of my cluttered dresser, putting my dirty clothes in the hamper, and pushing all my baseball gear and too many ballcaps to count into the closet. I do it all methodically while trying not to think about Bella's lips, her small sigh against my mouth, or the way her arms felt wrapped around me. I am completely unsuccessful. I am, however, successful at conjuring many scenarios in which I could sneak her into my room and have my way with her.

But, gah! It's Bella.

It's just too weird.

Then again, something tugs in my gut and makes me feel sure that it wasn't a mistake, that we'd be okay, that we could try this if we wanted to.

I kinda do. Want to.

I mean, I like Tanya. But she's like every other girl. There are a million Tanyas as evidenced by her hair connection, as Bella calls them. And I've dated a few. But I've never dated a Bella. Not officially, anyway.

Once my room is clean and my homework is done, I grab my cap off the counter on my way out to Bella's. We've got to talk about this. I enter her kitchen through the back door without knocking. I don't even know the last time I knocked when I came from my yard.

The kitchen's small and hasn't been remodeled like ours, but it gets the job done. The space is cluttered, filled with junk mail and stacks of old newspapers Charlie says he'll get to but never does. They're all pushed to the side, though, because Bella's at the counter doing her thing. She's in her baking stance: one leg is perched up, foot against knee. She's wearing light pink knee socks with a hot pink stripe, giving her a sort of flamingo look.

I get a spoon and peer over her shoulder to see if the cookie dough is ready. I dip in and snag a scoop, enjoying the gritty feel of the sugar against my tongue.

"That's good. Gran's cowboy cookies?"

She nods from where she is. She hasn't even looked at me. This is annoying. At the very least I figured she'd scold me for leaning my nasty hat over her bowl.

"About last night . . ." I start, having no clue what I'm about to say, just knowing I need to say something.

She sighs loudly and stops stirring, pressing her hands against the countertop. She shakes her head. "Just forget it, Edward. I get it. It's fine. We don't have to talk about it. You have Tanya, anyway."

"I don't _have_ to have Tanya," I say quietly.

She turns around appraising me, shifting from pink foot to pink foot. "I think you do." Her voice is stern. Final. "Besides, I finally . . . I . . . forget it."

"You really don't want to talk about it?"

She levels me with steely eyes. "How are your parents? Your dad apologize yet without sounding like an asshole?"

Wow, that was low. True, but low. And she made her point: we both have things we don't want to talk about.

"Okay. Fine, we don't have to talk about it. Can we hang out? I can't be at home anymore. My mom is cleaning out her closet."

"Yeah, it's fine. Let me put these in first."

"Okay." I slink off down the hallway and place my cap on her bedpost once I enter her room. It seems different now—now that I've kissed her of my own free will. Pretty stupid, I know. But it's true.

A massive bulletin board covers half a wall. Pictures morph one into the other, like a flow chart of friends and family, including myself. Magazine cutouts of her favorite players and her top five dream fields to visit create a border of softball and baseball greatness.

Next to the board are two posters. Her mother drove down for State last year and had two created for us. One of me, and one of Bella. They were made from our individual team photos. Bella liked them so much I had her keep them. They're posted side by side, mine labeled Shortstop, hers labeled Pitcher. I even signed mine for her, telling her when I made it to the major leagues, it'd be worth something. She'd laughed and told me she'd rather get a cut of my pay. I told her I'd think about it. Her mother, Renee, grinned slyly then stared back and forth at the two of us like we were nuts. We probably were. Are.

I slowly walk around her small room. I take in the books on her nightstand, mostly fiction with a bunch of sensitive-looking boys on the covers. I gaze at the tiny trinkets on her dresser: a stuffed baseball her gran knitted her when she had given up on making her a girl, a shot glass with a few rings and some small earrings in it, and a small bottle of lotion. I pick it up, taking a whiff, and the smell kicks me in the gut, drawing me back to last night when Bella was writhing in my lap.

I lower my head and sigh. What did we do? Have we messed everything up?

I close my eyes and go back there, this time laying her down on the hard cement and hovering over her, kissing her like I really mean it, like I want it. Like it wasn't just an accident. Because it wasn't, was it?

I don't think so. I know I liked it. I liked her braless, that's for sure. I tug lightly on the pulls of her top dresser drawer and slide it open. Just as suspected, I see what I'm looking for. Only it's not what I thought it'd be. Bella's always wandering around in her sports bra and sweats or boxers, but there are no sports bras in here. There's black and cream and white and lace and bows, and I can't stop thinking of what Bella would look like wearing one of these.

What is wrong with me?

A kitchen cabinet bangs, and I close the drawer just in case. Bella comes into her room and sits on the bed, propping herself up with pillows and turning on the TV that's attached to the wall. She glances at me, like she's bored, saying, "What?"

"Nothing." I sit beside her, and we watch reruns of Friends while the cookies bake.

She leaves occasionally to pull them out, plate them, and put another batch in. I do nothing but agonize over my stupid life each time she disappears.

I can do this. I can be her friend. As long as she's not mad at me, I can do this.

She munches on a warm cookie and offers me a bite.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, chewing thoughtfully.

"Yes," she says and takes another chunk of cookie into her mouth.

Well, crap. Now what?

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to not be your dad."

"I. Am. Not. My dad."

"You are. You're a lot alike. Only you don't realize it. Ask your mom about it. Or even Katie. They'll tell you."

"Great. So you're all ganging up on me?"

"Something like that," she says, completely unapologetic.

"Well, can you, like, at least give me some pointers?"

"How 'bout you take your head out of your butt." She takes an angry bite of cookie and keeps her eyes on the TV.

"Nice. Real nice, Swan."

She swivels her head toward me, abandoning the show blinking in front of us. "Nice? You want to talk about nice? Like how I was nice to you last night? How I didn't say a damn thing and let you do what you needed to do only to be repaid by being treated like a piece of meat—"

"You are not a piece of meat, and I—"

"And then told that you were grateful that not only was I a soft place to land, but I was also a place to rest your mouth."

"What? That's—that doesn't even make any sense. I didn't say that. I only meant that—"

"Oh, I know what you meant. Besides, why would you want me when you have Tanya? Perfect, perky, petulant, potato head Tanya."

"What's with all the alliteration? That word grouping was weird, too, by the way."

"Shut up, Edward." She returns her attention to the screen.

"I'm shutting up. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to leave me alone and forget this ever happened."

I face her fully, but she doesn't look at me. "That's what you want?" I may sound a little disappointed.

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay." Well, that was disappointing.

"How long will you be mad at me?"

"I don't know." She crams another cookie into her mouth.

"Can you give me a ballpark?"

"Wrigley." She picks up the remote and stabs the buttons angrily, trying to change the channel.

"Good choice." I wasn't expecting her smart mouth, but as I look to her bulletin board and see Wrigley first in line of her must-see fields, I know this is serious.

"Yeah, I make good choices. Usually," she says, eyeing me. And it stings like a freaking bee.

Well, damn. I always liked her tough side. It came in handy when our order was late and we were starving. Or when an umpire made a bad call and she shouted at him from the stands, still in her cleats from playing her own game. But now? Now that her toughness is aimed at me? I don't like it so much. And I don't even get it. Not really.

Bella said she didn't do girl talk. And maybe that's true. I know girls are pretty gossipy. But there's another type of girl talk: cryptic conversation. I didn't think Bella would participate in it—she's usually pretty direct—but she does. I don't fully understand why she's so upset. Is it because I kissed her and I was technically unavailable? Or simply because I kissed her at all?

Although, frankly, I don't care about either because I can rectify both problems. I can break up with Tanya. And I'm fairly sure I can convince Bella that kissing me is okay, just like I convinced her suicide wings are good and she should try them.

I take a cookie off her plate and think about how to say all this when she snaps at me. "Can't you get your own plate? Your own cookie? Not everything that's mine is yours."

"Okay, I'm sorry." I plop the already-bitten-into cookie back on her plate and give her an apologetic smile. She glares at me. I am so in trouble.

"Maybe I should go," I offer.

She shrugs like she doesn't care, so I go. I tuck my head as I climb the fence and realize I've just left my hat in Bella's room. It's my favorite. Crap.

Mom is crouched awkwardly in her closet going through pictures and paperwork. I don't quite understand why my mom is leaving. Why isn't my dad? So I ask.

"It's simpler this way. And I kind of . . . I want something for myself. After raising three kids and caring for this home and working for your father, I want something that's mine."

"I don't want you to go," I admit and sit down beside her, pulling at the carpet threads.

She places her hand over mine and sighs.

"I know, honey. I don't want to go either, but I don't think there's any other way. I've done everything I can. I've—"

She seems so forlorn, so I stop her. "I know, Mom. It's Dad's turn to give something up. He needs to do the right thing for once for his family. No, screw that, for you."

She gives me a wan smile. "If there's anything I'm proud of, it's that I've raised such sweet boys."

"Watch that plural. I don't think Garrett counts. Do you remember that girl he brought home for Christmas?"

"She was covered in glitter," Mom blurts and covers her wide smile with her well-manicured hand.

I laugh loudly at the memory, remembering my brother's detailed account of how he came across her. Gross. "Did he tell you how they met?"

Mom holds up a hand to stop me. "I don't even want to know. I tried with him. I really did," Mom says. "But some boys are just boys."

"Hey, what does that say about me?" I nudge her with my foot, and she giggles softly.

"_You_ are a gentleman."

"Well, tell that to Bella." It comes about a bit brattier than I mean it to.

"Oh, she knows you're one of the good ones."

"I don't think so."

"Why? What did you do?" Mom scrutinizes me in that I-know-you-broke-the-window way, and I come clean.

"I may have kissed her last night."

"What? Oh, that's wonderful! Did you call Katie? I bet Bella did. Oh, so great," she says full of glee, her eyes bright and wide. But then my mother does something strange. Well, stranger than praising me for kissing my neighbor. She starts to cry, a few tears streaming down her cheeks. My mother never cries. She is as stoic as they come. I guess she has to be living with my unfeeling father.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly, worried I won't know what to do to help her. I never know what to do to help. Though, my mother often says just asking helps, so I do. Ask, that is. If I can help and all.

"Yes, I'm just so happy for you. Now, I liked Tanya, I did, and you know I don't like to meddle, but Bella is just . . . she's it, honey. She's it!"

"Yeah, I guess she is," I say, not knowing what I'm agreeing to.

My mother leans over me in an awkward hug and hops onto her feet, clapping. "I have to call Renee!" Not Bella's mom. Why does she need to know? I know they're friends, but really?

"Mom, maybe not yet. Maybe . . ."

"Nonsense."

I can't bear to crush her happy moment by telling her Bella's pissed at me and wishes I'd never kissed her to begin with, so I don't keep her from snagging up the cordless from her nightstand.

She holds the phone between her ear and shoulder while simultaneously texting on her cell. Girls spread news fast. This isn't good, but what am I supposed to do? I have no idea, so I do nothing.

After eating dinner and having a quick shower, I check my phone for messages. Garrett sent me a text.

_Way to go, baby bro. Heard you finally slid home with Swan._

I call him immediately.

"How's it hangin'?" he says in greeting.

"Little to the left. What's your text about?"

"Katie called me. Said you and Swan finally knocked boots."

"We didn't; there was no knocking. Of the boots."

"Dude, you're as stupid as you look. Get on that, all right?" He's exasperated with me. Always is when it comes to girls. Like I'm not living up to my potential. Truth is, he's _lived_ enough for both of us. It's embarrassing. But I know he'll keep bugging me, so I say what I have to say.

"All right."

"Really?" His voice is high in excitement.

"No, nimrod, it's Bella."

"I don't like to joke about your sad, sad broken condom conception, but you know . . ." He is full of crap. While Katie calls me an afterthought baby and Mom calls me a sweet miracle, Garrett continually calls me Oops. He loves to joke about it. He's eight years older than me, and Katie is ten. So maybe he's right. I don't care; I'm Mom's favorite. ". . . I honestly think Dad's sperm was old and slow 'cause Mom was young and fertile. There's no other reason for you to be this dumb."

"You know, I sort of missed you last week. Now, not so much."

"Then my mission here is done." He sounds so proud of his work. I even think I can hear him dusting off his hands. What a nerd.

"Great. Thanks for all the brotherly advice."

"You're quite welcome, young padawan."

"You're a dork. How do you even get chicks?"

"I've got great hair, I'm charismatic, and I'm built, man. Cullen men are gorgeous bastards. Haven't you noticed? Then again, took you eleventy years to notice Bella has boobs and sex legs. Oh, but wait, you just said you hadn't noticed. Hmm, sorry, I said the wrong thing. So uh, good luck with your ignorance. I guess you'll have to fly by on your good looks like Dad did."

"I am not like Dad."

"Dude, no. Not oblivious like Dad at all. I mean, he can't even see what's right in front of his freaking face and how lucky he is to have found someone that's amazing and willing to put up with his crap."

"Not anymore," I mumble.

"Yeah, I guess. Good luck with that. Sucks, man, you being at home and stuff."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Hey, and good luck with Swan, too."

"Double thanks."

I end the call and lie in bed staring at the glowing stars on my ceiling. Bella and I put them up on my eleventh birthday. She was determined to make constellations and printed out something from the internet that we used as our guide. It took us three hours, but it was worth it. I think about her every time I look up at them at night.

My phone brightens, and I pick it up, seeing another text from my brother.

_You've still got Tanya, right? She's hot. Keep her. At least until you figure things out. _

I fall asleep imagining what tomorrow will bring. Angry eyes from Bella or sad ones or happy ones, like usual. I don't know what I'll see. I only know I want her to look at me the way she did last night. Or, at the very least, the way she used to, like a friend.

Here's hoping.

**A/N: Some facts: this story is completely written and 23 chapters, I have a Twitter account (come say hi), I like you, you're cute, it's good to see so many familiar "faces" and some new ones, too, your reviews make me laugh and smile, and that's awesome. Thank you.**


	3. Chapter 3 Shoulder

**Playlist: Mr. Right by A Rocket to the Moon**

**Word Prompt: Shoulder**

**Plot Generator: waiting for the right moment.**

**Chapter 3**

Idling in Bella's driveway, I check my phone while waiting for her. Waiting and waiting and waiting. I head to the door and knock. Charlie answers.

He holds a rag, wiping his hands. He's already in his uniform and heavy boots, ready for work. "What do you need, kid?"

"I'm waiting for Bella," I say, incredulous. He knows, just as I do, I pick her up every day for school.

"She left with some Jake guy, mmm . . ." he checks his watch, ". . . 'bout fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh, okay."

"He looks like a football player," Charlie grumbles.

"Um, yeah, he is."

"You'll figure that out then, right?"

"I . . ." I fiddle with my team-issued cap since my favorite's in Bella's room.

Charlie looks down at his feet, then back at me, like he's taking stock or something. In a gruff tone he says, "Go to school, Edward, and fix it."

The first time I see Bella is at lunch. She's with the usuals: Marcus, Jane, Peter, Charlotte. And one addition—Jake. I don't mind Jake. He's a decent guy. Funny as hell. Doesn't talk smack. But seeing him sitting across from Bella, making her laugh, pisses me off.

"Hey, guys," I say, sitting and chugging my Gatorade. Gotta hydrate throughout the day; I've got a game later.

Peter and Marcus nod hello, but Jane and Charlotte ignore me. Nothing unusual there. Those two stick to their men mostly. Jake says, "S'up," and Bella gives me a hesitant glance. That's nice. Better than I expected.

Tanya plops down beside me and leans in for a kiss. I oblige but keep my eyes on Bella. Okay, this is getting weird. "You okay?" she asks.

"I'm, you know, just family crap."

"Right, the divorce. How's that going?" she asks absently as she unfolds a wrapper unveiling half a sandwich. Another container sits to the side: a salad, no doubt.

"How's that . . ." I throw my hand out in shock at her statement. I'm dating an idiot. Who would say something like that?

Tanya shrugs and opens up her lunch container, tucking into her customary salad. I knew it. She chats with Charlotte and Jane about shoes. I know she'd prefer sitting with more of her girlfriends, but I don't really like big crowds. And frankly, her friends bug me. Charlotte and Jane are all I can handle, and she likes them enough.

Bella, however, can't stand any of them. She likes Marcus and Peter and me. She's better off hanging with the guys, anyway. We're less complicated. She likes that. And I like that about her. Although, the situation we're in now is anything but "less complicated."

"I stopped to pick you up today," I say, eyes on Bella. She snaps her head to gaze at me, but before she can speak, Tanya pipes up.

"Aw, such a sweetie. You know I ride with Irina. She drops me off before heading to her classes."

"Oh, I meant Bella," I say, feeling a little rude and foolish. I have not been a stellar boyfriend as of late. Then again, she hasn't been a stellar girlfriend, either, so . . .

"Oh," she says, then picks something out of her salad she doesn't like. Looks like an olive, but it's the wrong color. I love olives.

"I rode with Jake," Bella says, mouth full of pizza.

"Yeah, your dad said. Said some other stuff, too."

"What did he say?" Jake asks.

"Nothing important. Anyway, just let me know when and if you need a ride."

"I got it from here, man," Jake says, grin wide.

"I also have my car, ya know," she says jokingly but only looks at Jake when she says it. Like she's flirting. With him. Like he's worth flirting with.

This sucks.

I eat quietly, watching the people around me, wanting to shrink and hide under my hat.

Halfway through lunch Tanya abandons our table for another with a bunch of her friends. I wait to get Bella alone. But it never happens. Jake is stuck to her. They walk shoulder to shoulder down the hall like freaking Siamese twins.

I catch her before our game, though, and walk with her to the buses. She's got her gear on, but her hat's missing, and her hair is down, swaying as she walks. It's so long now, it nearly reaches her butt. Her, um, nice butt. Wow, with the softball uniform you can really see the shape and everything. I shake my head and jog up to her.

"You still mad?" I call out like an ass. What else should I say?

She turns on me and narrows her eyes.

"Okay, yes. You got a ballpark for me yet?"

"Yankee Stadium," she deadpans and digs in her bag, pulling out an apple and taking a massive bite.

"Got one of those for me?" I know she does; she always does.

"Not today," she mumbles.

"Hey, Bella, come on. This sucks. I miss you."

"I'm right here," she scoffs, throwing her arms out wide.

"You know what I mean." I cross my arms, and my bag swings, heavy against my side.

"You mean the Bella that did everything for you and talked to you and was your friend and did whatever the hell you wanted just because you wanted her to?"

I scratch my cheek and think about her words, and she's right. "Yeah, that's who I miss," I say.

She closes her eyes and takes a labored breath. She turns around and heads toward the bus again, so I snag her arm.

She wrenches it away from me and throws it to the side wildly. "Did you forget I know how to use a bat?"

"No," I say, baffled. Geez, she's combative. And really pissed.

"Good. And bye."

"Bye." I watch her walk away from me, feeling sorry for myself. What did I do to deserve this? All I did was kiss her. She kissed me back. "Well, good luck," I say, calling to her.

She throws her arm up and fist pumps her apple in the air. I'm hungry now.

Tuesday sucks just as bad as Monday in regards to Bella and her new behavior, which consists of either A. ignoring me, or B. saying awful, hurtful things.

By Wednesday, I get smart and avoid her by taking Tanya to lunch. While there, something unexpected happens. But I'm happy about it.

"So Irina said her English professor was flirting with her. It's, like, ew gross. He's in his thirties."

"Isn't she in her twenties?" I take a large bite of my burrito with the works and chew gratefully. I feel like I haven't eaten in days. Really, it's only been a few hours. Mom officially moved out this morning and didn't have time to make me breakfast, so I went to school hungry. I should've grabbed a banana or something, anything.

"Yeah, but yuck." She squints at her measly salad and forks some, tapping the lettuce with her tongue before taking it into her mouth. Talk about yuck. Can't she just eat it like a normal human being?

"My parents are eight years apart."

"Yeah, and see how well that turned out." She rolls her eyes and takes another bite.

My mind is bogged down by her words, and I imagine Bella telling me to calm down, that everything will be okay. But it won't be okay. Not with Tanya, that's for sure. So I do what I have to do. "Tanya, I don't I think I want to do this anymore. I like you, but I don't think we're meant to be together."

She drops her fork and makes direct eye contact. "You're breaking up with me?"

"I . . . yeah, I am." Good, clear, concise. I'm good at this, though my fingers fumble nervously with my hair, looking for the hat that's been missing for days. I need to get it back.

"Because I said something mean, but true, about your parents?"

"Well, that's part of it." I set my burrito down and play with the condensation on my cup, looking for a distraction. I don't want to admit I was a cheating jerk, but I should. It's the right thing to do.

"Part? What's the other part?" Her four-fake-nailed hand flies around her head as she speaks.

"I kissed Bella." _And I liked it._

"Bella Swan?" Her mouth hangs open after she says it. I hope a fly finds its way inside.

"Yes," I say.

"She's like a boy. Are you gay?" Her eyes go wide, like she's actually discovered something. She has not.

"I'm not gay. And Bella is not like a boy. She's—"

"Not even cute."

_No, you're right. She's gorgeous, and I never took the time to notice_. "You wouldn't get it. I get along with her."

"Because she follows you around like a puppy dog and does whatever you say. And you know what? Screw you, Mr. All American Good Looking Baseball Boy, because that ship has already sailed. I saw her and Jake making out in his car last night at Sonic." She smiles victoriously and eats a bite of her salad.

"I . . . that's . . ." Is that true? Does Bella do everything I say? And if she does, I should tell her not to make out with Jake. He plays football. And he's not me.

"You're pathetic. I'm glad I didn't waste anymore time on you. I was holding out 'til prom, hoping you'd put out. After that it was just a matter of waiting for the right time to see you off."

"To see me off? This is great then. I'm glad we're doing this now." I shrug because I couldn't care less.

"Yeah, now my summer will be free to start on college guys."

"Well, good luck with that."

"I don't need luck. Have you seen me?" She smiles brightly and twirls some hair around her finger, which makes her missing nail stand out much more. Is she trying to be alluring? Because she looks kind of creepy. "Every male sees me except you."

"I guess not," I say. I feel a huge sense of relief suddenly, like I could run several miles or bench press twice my usual weight. It's great.

"Whatever. We done here?"

"Yep, I'll drive you back to school, and then that's it, I guess."

"Fine by me, Edward." She puts all her half eaten rabbit food on my tray so I can throw it away. It'll be like a metaphor when I do it, like sliding Tanya off my tray of life and into the trash where she belongs. Although, there is that saying: one man's trash is another man's treasure. I'm sure that'll be true for Tanya. She is attractive, and she can be sweet. I honestly wish her the best, but I don't need to put up with her anymore. She's not it for me. Apparently, according to my mother—and I'm starting to agree—Bella is. What _it_ means, I'm not exactly sure. But I am sure I like her.

**A/N: And there was much rejoicing. Hooray.  
**


	4. Chapter 4 Field

**Playlist: Crazy for this Girl by Evan and Jaron**

**Word Prompt****: Field**

**Dialogue Flex****: "Happy anniversary!" she said.**

**Chapter 4**

Thursday proves to be the saddest day of the week because now I can't even distract myself with Tanya chatter. I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing to keep me from watching Bella peter around campus with Jake on her heels. And he is always on her heels. Lucky dog.

We both have a game in the late afternoon, and mine finishes first. I go to the girls' field to check out Bella's team. And to be honest, Bella herself.

She's on the pitcher's mound, ball in hand, eyeing the catcher. She nods, sets herself up like I've seen her do in her backyard a million times, and lobs the ball forward.

The batter swings and misses, and I applaud for Bella, calling her name. It's then I notice the hulking figure in the stands lower down. He swivels his head back toward me and waves. Jake. Of course. He claps as well, and the two of us cheer her on.

She's got the ball again and rubs it with both hands, her glove tucked beneath her armpit. She sets up, looks toward us once, and drives the ball toward the hitter.

Crack!

The batter's running, hauling ass to first, then second. Bella's low to the ground, leaning side to side, keeping on her toes, waiting to see if the action will come her way. Eventually, it does as the ball makes its way in-field. The softball's flying fast, straight for her.

"Back it up!" I shout. "She's going for it. Be ready!"

With a backward leap, Bella snags the ball and touches back, swiping her glove on the player's thigh.

The noise of the crowd pauses as we wait for the umpire's call.

"Out!" he shouts, and Bella's glove flies into the air as the rest of the teammates rush her. She's just won the game for her team. Dammit, she's good. I love to watch her play. So passionate. She's always been that way. Even when she was five and we were in t-ball together. She was competitive and wanted to win. But it went beyond that and still does—she wants to get better, to improve. I do, too. In more ways than one.

I stand and cheer, waving my team-issued hat in the air when I realize Jake's vacated the stands. He's on the field, and Bella's in his arms.

This week sucks.

By Friday, I'm feeling desperate and lonely in every way conceivable. Mom's staying with Katie until she can find her own place, which means it's me and Dad to fend for ourselves. After sitting at an empty kitchen table for thirty minutes waiting for people and food to magically appear, I swallow my pride and head to Bella's.

I hop the fence and rap on her window like always, expecting her to peek through. But she doesn't. Jake does.

In my shock, I jerk away from the widow and lose my balance, falling on the prickly bush. Sandy comes from her house and barks at the commotion until she realizes it's me. I walk toward her, clearing my head, though I'm not paying attention and step in one of her landmines. Awesome.

I'm scuffing my foot on the barely-there grass when the back door slides open, and out walk Jake and Bella. Her hair is wild, and his shirt's unbuttoned.

"What do you want?" Bella asks, hostile.

"I . . . uh, it's nothing. It's . . . I . . ." I point to my house, trying to show how dark and drab and gloomy it is, but I fail to make my point because I'm a blithering idiot.

Jake appraises me and, to my surprise, doesn't look pissed to see me lurking in Bella's backyard.

"We were gonna watch a movie. You want to join us?" he asks, cheerfully. Why is he so happy all the time? I glance at Bella's crazy bed head and frown at one of the possible reasons.

Bella starts yammering. "Oh, no, Jake. He can't—he—"

"I can," I say, smiling and walk toward them, doing a little shuffle to rid my shoes of dog poop.

I haven't heard Bella flub her words in a while. She did it a lot in middle school. I'd ask her a question, and she'd look up at me all confused and start blurting gibberish, like she was lost in her head or something. I didn't understand it then, but maybe I do now. Maybe she was nervous. Like she is now. Nervous that I'll stay when she doesn't want me to. Well, too bad. I don't want them going back to her room and doing whatever it was they were doing. No thanks.

I pass up Bella who glares and then Jake who whispers, "Did you know you smell like shit?"

"Yeah, I did," I whisper back.

"Oh, all right." He's polite; I'll give him that.

We all head inside to watch a movie together—a lame romantic comedy—in the most awkward atmosphere known to man.

Bella and Jake snuggle on the floor while I hog the couch and dangle my shod feet as close to them as possible, hoping the smell of Sandy's turd will squash their connection.

It seems to work, but when Jake says his goodbyes he kisses Bella at the door. It is not a short kiss, and I am not happy. But this is what happens when you like someone and are too foolish to tell them, so I think up a plan and put it into action quickly.

The door closes with a thump, and I blurt, "I broke up with Tanya."

"She had sex with Eric the next day." Bella smoothes her hair out and sits on the couch beside me.

"I'm not surprised. How do you know?"

"Tanya is a braggart." Bella says this with a smile meant to irritate me, but it doesn't. It reminds me of when we were little and tried to trick Katie and Garrett into giving us their quarters so we could buy something from the ice cream man. We always rubbed our hands together when it worked and smiled like evil geniuses. This is her evil genius smile. And it looks cute on her lips.

"Ah," is all I can say because I'm thinking about Bella's lips.

Bella picks up some dishes around the living room and puts them in the sink before rinsing and placing them in the dish washer.

I sit on the floor in the kitchen waiting for her to finish. From this vantage point I enjoy watching her curves sway around the cramped space. She looks just as good doing dishes as she does playing softball. I can't imagine how good she'd look doing _other_ things.

When she's done cleaning, she sits opposite me.

"I'm kissing Jake," Bella says, eyes downward, fiddling with her knee socks—lime green tonight.

"I can see." I also see her long legs stretched out before me. Garrett's right: sex legs. It's a good description, I think.

"He asked me out."

I lift my random cap and run my hand over the top of my hair before setting it back down. "Are you his girlfriend now?" It's basically a whisper because I'm a big pile of chicken poop even though I currently smell like dog poop.

"No."

"No? You're kissing him in your bedroom while your dad's at work. I'd say that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do."

"Well, we're not."

"Why not? You like him, right?"

"Yeah. I'm not a whore." She snaps her sock to punctuate her words. I get it. I know it.

"I know that. I'm just curious why you didn't say yes."

Bella stares at her feet for a long while then looks up into my eyes. "I'm not sure why."

"You're not sure?"

"No, I'm not."

This is where my plan kicks back in. Honesty, that's the main point. "Well, I was sure about breaking up with Tanya."

"Yeah? Why'd you do that?"

"Because of you." _I don't want there to be any confusion._

She keeps her eyes on me. A small smile growing that she seems to be trying to keep at bay.

"I like you, Bella. I didn't know that I did, but I did. I mean, I do."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know," she says softly to the kitchen tiles.

I cross the small floor space so I'm sitting beside her. "You got that ballpark for me yet?" I nudge her shoulder with mine, and she cracks a smile.

"Fenway," she whispers, looking up at me with soft eyes.

I really want to kiss her.

"That's a good one." And in the middle of her list. We're getting there.

"Yeah, I think so. Why did you come over here tonight?"

"I'm starving. For food and attention," I explain with a wide grin.

She chuckles at my words. "You sound like a dog." She bonks my knee with hers and leaves it there so we're still connected. The soft fabric of the knee sock is the best thing I've ever felt on my bare skin. Except for maybe her lips. On my lips.

And now I'm distracted again.

"If the shoe fits," I say, admitting to my dog-like behavior. I guess it works.

"Hmm. Well, I might have some Kibble for you."

"That would be great. What are ya gonna make?"

She laughs at my assumption. "Nothing, jerk. Heat up some leftovers."

"All right." I tug at her hair and ask her to stay out here with me.

She sits on a barstool and watches as I navigate her kitchen as if it were my own to assemble a dinner of sorts. Left over mashed potatoes, some fajita mix, and a glass of milk. The dinner of champions. Or in this case, the dinner of a neglected teenage boy raiding his friend's fridge.

I sit beside her and frown now that I'm all set because I'm not. No utensils.

She smiles at my plate and reaches into the dish drainer to snag me a fork.

"Your mom gone already?"

"Yeah, she left awhile ago." My house is so empty without her. I don't know how my dad can stand it. If I were him I'd be at her doorstep on my knees, begging for her to come back. He's not one to admit that he's wrong, so I worry about their future. I suspect it will end poorly with a signed paper announcing their freedom.

"When?"

"I dunno."

"What day? Wednesday?"

"Yeah, yeah, Wednesday."

"So sad. Happy anniversary."

"Oh, no. It's . . . you're right. It was their . . . I don't think my dad even . . ."

"He's acting like he doesn't care at all. I don't know, Edward. I want them to make it, but at this rate . . ."

"He needs to really pull out all the stops, huh?"

"Pretty much." She nods in agreement.

"Maybe I can help him."

Bella bursts into laughter, the kind where spit flies and people want to join in, but I don't. I can't. Because I'm fairly certain she's just completely insulted me.

"Hey, I could. I mean, I could . . . I don't know . . ."

"I know you don't," she says, wiping tears from her eyes and staring at me with a goofy expression. She has kind eyes, though, hopeful. Maybe I'm not a complete wash. Maybe my dad's not either. I hope not.

Bella's hand flies out and grips my shoulder, excitedly. Her eyebrows do this weird little dance I find amusing before she says, "Hey, why'd Esme tell my mom we're going out?"

I choke on my potatoes, and Bella slams my back harder than she needs to. Once my coughing subsides, I drink my tall glass of milk.

"You thank me, I know," she says, laughing at me.

"Never said I didn't," I say and take another bite of potatoes.

She smiles and pulls her hair into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic band from her wrist.

Things are going to be all right. I can feel it.

**A/N: The lovely Twisted Lea couldn't stand my wonky fanfiction cover photo, so she made me one to match my banner (check it out in detail on my blog). She's coolio like that. And so are you. Seriously enjoying each and every review. Thank you. And thank you to Kassiah at The Fictionators for giving my story a shout out. I've had lots of new readers since Friday. Hope you're all still having fun.  
**


	5. Chapter 5 Water, Daughter, Slaughter

**Playlist: ****Pictures of You by The Last Goodbye**

**Word Prompts**: **Water, daughter, slaughter**

**Chapter 5**

Time flies now that Bella and I make sense again. We do the usual: hang, talk, play games. She especially likes to kick my butt in nerd-it-up ones like Boggle and Scrabble.

We sit on my unmade bed staring at the Boggle board. I have a list of ten words and don't see anything else. She, however, is scribbling furiously. I can't be mad, though, because she's adorable when she concentrates like this—her nose scrunching up and her eyebrows wiggling around. But I especially like when she gets frustrated with herself and her tongue peeks out for a split second before she bites her lip.

"Time!" I say, checking my alarm clock.

"You start," she says dejectedly. Clearly, she was not paying as close attention to me as I was to her or she'd already know she's the queen of this round.

We run through our list of words, and I end up with one that she doesn't have. I laugh at my pathetic-ness, and she joins in too until we sigh into a quiet calmness. I missed this. I smile at her and enjoy the simplicity of our relationship and the fact that we can be silent together and it's not awkward. That, I've discovered, is rare.

"Well, now what?" I ask.

"Did you finish that lab write up?"

"Nah, you?"

"Gotta get my stuff. Change of scenery?" She points out the window to her home. "Meet me in five?"

"Yeah, sure."

Bella steps from my room to head home but is quickly bombarded by my dad. "Oh, hey. You do your dad's laundry, right? You know what to do about pen stains? I got this uh, here, here just look at it."

I can't stop him, and Bella ends up in my parents' room, which is really depressing now that my mom's stuff is gone. I can't go in there, so I hang around in the doorway.

"I wish I could help, Dr. Cullen, but my dad's never had a fountain pen stain in his life. Esme would know. Call her." Bella's full of great ideas.

"Yeah, Dad. Call Mom. She'll know."

Dad drops his hand and crinkles the shirt in his fist. "I'll figure it out. Can't be that hard, right?" He gives us a forced smile before turning toward his closet.

"Google is good for everything," Bella says hurriedly to his retreating form, trying to fix the situation. She's so thoughtful, always knows what other people need.

Once I'm in her kitchen I tell her so. "Is it innate? Because I don't even know how you do it."

"Will you shut up? It's not a big deal." If I know Bella, and I do, she's feeling really uncomfortable now. Not very good with compliments. But it's about time she gets used to them, so I continue.

"It is. He probably would've hid in his closet and cried after we left, but not now. Now he's furiously typing fountain pen plus stain removal in his Google browser. I wish I could do that, could be like you."

"You don't want to be like me, Edward, trust me. My head's a mess." She flips her fingers around near her ear, like she's crazy.

"Well, it's a beautiful mess, then." Yeah, I'm going to go as deep as I can with this new and improved complimentary Edward. It's fun.

Charlie clears his throat before clanging some things around in the kitchen. He's not a subtle man. "You kids studying?"

Bella holds up her text to say _duh_.

"I was gonna watch a game," he announces.

"What game? There's no game," Bella says.

"There's always one on this baby." He pats his DVR before taking up residence in his recliner and making a loud refreshing noise. "You kids gonna stay here?"

"If you want me to go to my room just tell me," Bella complains.

"What kind of a dad would I be if I told my only daughter to go to her room with the likes of this riff raff?" he asks, giving me a look. A did-you-fix-it-yet? look. I have no idea how to respond to that, so I take off my cap and follow the heavy lettering of our school name with my finger.

"A trusting one?" Bella says, laughing.

"A fool, is what," he says, picking up the remote. I don't know why we're still in here talking. Bella and I always hang out in her room; it's never been a problem. He likes to act tough, but the most he's ever done to keep me away from Bella was plant and furiously water that damn bush outside her window.

Bella knows this, too, so she says, "It's Edward," like I don't matter at all, like she'd never even think about doing anything inappropriate with me in her room. Now I feel a little sad.

"Uh huh. And, Edward, did you fix it?" Charlie asks, his full attention on me.

I snap my cap back in place and say, "Trying to, sir."

"Well, don't go overboard, you got it?"

"Yep." Dammit.

"What?" Bella asks, eyes large and curious. I'm not telling her about what he said.

"Scram," Charlie demands. "Let your old man have some quality time with the boobtube."

"Okay, we're leaving," Bella says, haughtily.

"Door open," he calls after us.

We laugh at Charlie's antics as we head down the hall.

"How's he with Jake?" I blurt and realize a second too late I don't want to know.

"Oh, well, I sort of keep them separated," she admits sheepishly.

"Good idea, I guess. Especially if Jake likes his—"

"Hey!" She smacks upward at my brim, making my hat fly onto the floor in the doorway of her room.

I want to laugh but can't. It's caught in my throat because the sight before me has shocked me into silence. I'm gone. Cleared from her room.

Where Bella's board and posters used to be, there's now a blank green wall. _What the hell?  
_  
"What the hell, what?" she asks. Clearly, I'm speaking my thoughts aloud.

"Where's all your stuff? You painted?" I check the bedpost for my favorite hat, and it's there. It makes me feel a little less like I want to jump off a bridge.

"Yeah, I wanted to for a while, and Jake offered to help. It was fun."

"Did he pick out the color, too?"

"No! I did," she says, offended.

"Hmm . . ."

"What's your problem?"

"I don't know. I feel, like, gutted."

"You feel like an intestine-free fish?"

"I feel replaced," I admit truthfully.

Bella doesn't say anything. Instead, she sits on her bed and pulls out her notebook. That's . . . I don't even know what that is, but I don't like it. I want to call my mother so she'll tell me how great I am. I hate to admit it, but I need that right now.

I get home earlier than expected and sit in my empty, dark, and lonely living room. I place my ball cap on the end table and nearly scream when—

"You know your mother hates you leaving your dirty caps all over the house."

I swivel my head toward my dad's voice. He's at the kitchen table, a coffee cup in hand. It's my mother's cup. My parents had a standing date Saturday and Sunday after dinner. They'd sit and sip coffee and talk about their week, their plans for the next one. My father's eyes look dim, the wrinkles around them are more prominent than I remember. His lips form a thin, uninterested line, like he's beyond caring. But I know he's not because late at night he plays their song in his bedroom.

At times while growing up I'd get grossed out when I'd hear it because I figured if it was on so were they. But now it's almost as if my mother's ghost is haunting the house at night, ensuring that we can never forget her. And how can we? She's the center of our lives. She does everything for us, including making us feel good about ourselves and helping us even when we might not deserve it.

Looking at my dad and seeing him in this catatonic state and knowing he created this problem, I want to walk away. But improved Edward and Edward that wants to learn from Bella's thoughtfulness convene and decide to be nice.

"Are you okay, Dad?" That's a start, right?

"No, Edward, I'm not."

"Do you miss her?"

"More than you'll ever understand."

"You'd be surprised," I say, resting my head on the back of the couch.

"Until you meet a woman like your mother, just . . ."

I know he didn't mean to insult me or Bella, but I'm fairly certain he did. I cut him some slack, though, since he's not involved in my life. He doesn't know about my situation with Bella. For all he knows, we just practice together and ride with each other to and from school. I'd like to tell him different, but the slump in his shoulders tells me now's not the time.

"No, I know. Mom's unbelievable."

"Yeah. I'm heading to bed."

"Okay," I say, but neither of us gets up to go to our rooms. We sit in silence and bond over the loss of the women in our lives. It's the closest I've felt to my dad since before I went through puberty.

Morning comes quickly and with it, hunger pangs. Normally when Mom's out I steal from Bella, but today I can't manage that. I go out instead.

I call Mom after ordering my breakfast at Dunkin Donuts.

"Edward, hi, honey. I miss you." Her sincerity and tender voice bring about an instantaneous tightness in my throat. Where is my man card lately?

"Hi, Mom. How's life?" I say lamely and make my payment and grab my bag from the cashier. The car behind me honks.

"Are you driving? Get off the phone right now, young man, I'm not going to your funeral. Not in my lifetime."

"Relax. Drive thru."

"Well, make it quick."

"I just miss you. I don't know what else to say. It's weird without you at home."

"It's weird without you, too. Say, why don't you join Katie and the family for dinner sometime this week? I'll cook, and she can have a break. I'm already driving her nuts, I'm afraid, but it's so hard being a live-in grandmother. I told you about the Fruity Pebbles, right? She just feeds them to Caleb all day like it's not going to rot his teeth out of his head and—"

Honk!

"Edward, I refuse to talk to you while you try to get slaughtered in your car. I'll call you later." She hangs up, and I get back on the road, returning to my depressing home.


	6. Chapter 6 Disdain

**Playlist: Don't Give Up on Us by The Maine**

**Word Prompt****: Disdain**

**Chapter 6**

"Hey, do you know if Bella heard back from North yet?"

"What? North what?" I ask Jake, as we wait on the curb for Bella to get her crud from her locker. We don't have practice today since there's a faculty meeting, and I happened to be there when Jake was invited to Bella's. I quickly invited myself, too.

"You know, Northern College."

"Oh, yeah, no, she hasn't heard. I don't think." What the hell is he talking about? Bella and I filled out our apps to the U eons ago and already got our acceptance letters. Everything's set for the fall. I'm heading into Engineering, and she's going into Nursing.

"I'm so excited for her. Don't you think she'll be great? I mean, she was great with me."

"Uh huh, sure." _What?_

"You can't ever tell her this, but I faked it. Not the initial injury, but I just sorta wanted to hang out with her longer, so . . ."

"She would totally kick your ass if she knew."

"Yep."

"So you didn't want to play?"

"I did. I just . . . it's Bella. Bella freaking Swan. I figured I'm a junior; I have another year. It's not like scouts were there to check me out."

"They could've been. You're really good," I admit begrudgingly.

"How would you know?"

"I took Tanya to a few games."

"Man, she is so hot. How'd you screw that one up?" He punches my shoulder, and I stare at it.

"I . . . she wasn't _it_ for me. Does that make any sense?"

"Yep," he says, totally distracted, and I can see why. Bella's just emerged from the double doors of the English building, her striped knee-socked legs striding quickly to us. "There she is," Jake says. It's a whisper, like he reveres her very presence. She's not the Pope. She's Bella.

She waves and gives me a shy smile, and Jake gets a hug. I take one, too. Whatever Jake gets, I want one as well. I think.

"What are you guys talking about?" she asks, tugging on the strap of her backpack.

"Nothing, just college stuff. I can't believe you'll be leaving me," Jake says, pouting.

"Oh, please, you'll get tired of me in no time. I'm really not that interesting." Bella walks ahead of us, leading the way to the parking lot.

"She's really not," I say, earning a laugh and a slap to the stomach from Bella. I flex so she can feel steel. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I'm not above showing off my body for her sake. My brother's always telling me to use what I have. Might as well. It couldn't hurt, right?

"Aw, I don't believe that. I learn something new about you everyday. And I'm glad about it. I thought after football season, you'd just disappear and I'd never see you again. Not many beautiful senior girls want to hang out with youngins."

"You're not that young, Jake," Bella says.

"Eh, he does have a baby face," I say and this time earn a scowl from Bella. Oops.

We eat snacks at Bella's, and Jake works independently while Bella and I compare notes on our calculus homework. I may lean a bit more than I need to just to be closer to her. She definitely put some of that vanilla lotion on today. The smell of it sends my senses into overdrive at the worst times. Like when Jake is here.

When Bella gets us refills on our drinks, Jake stops her in the kitchen and steals a kiss. I do my best to ignore it, taking out my anger on my hat, shaping and reshaping the mangled brim. This guy's going to ruin my school cap, dammit. I don't want to have to get a new one so close to the end of the year. I really need to lose this guy. Bella needs to lose this guy.

Just as I think it, Bella turns toward me, our eyes meeting over the island. _Yes, I see you. Point taken, Bella, you have options. Now choose me. _

Around dinnertime Jake leaves, and I take the opportunity to enjoy some time with Bella—just the two of us.

But that plan is thwarted when Charlie arrives not five minutes later with takeout for two. I'm sent home where I eat and spend the evening by myself, waiting on Dad to come home. Eventually, I give up and go to bed.

**-NSID-**

Wednesday evening I drop by Bella's to pick her up for dinner. Somehow she got wrangled into going to Katie's, too.

When I arrive at the door, I blather like an idiot because she looks nice. Really nice. Hair curly, shirt flow-y but not too girly, and jeans that scream "Grab me! Grab me!" I don't, of course, but I want to. Grab her.

"Hey, how's it—I mean, uh, did you—" I lift my hat and scratch my head. "You look, er, good."

"Errr, thanks," she says, mocking me and rolling her eyes. Okay, so it wasn't my best attempt at complimenting her, but I was caught unawares. I did _not_ horrible, I think.

When we get in my car, I'm worried the awkwardness will continue, but it doesn't. She bitches about the DJ right away and changes the station in a huff, mumbling something about stupid auto-tune pop girls. Then she slips off her shoes, propping her polka-dot socked feet on the dash, and slumps into her seat.

The drive is relatively short, but Bella's quiet after her initial rant, which bugs me. I wish she was more chatty like she used to be. She's closed off now in a way she never was before.

The summer before sophomore year, we had this ongoing game of Pictionary with Marcus and Peter. Every time Bella and I were together she'd bombard me with questions so she could know everything about me. We'd always win the game because we were tight and could communicate without communicating. We were the best team. I'd like to be that amazing team again. Except without the lame high fives. And more kissing. We definitely need more kissing.

"Hello? Green," Bella's says, perturbed I'm not paying attention to the road. It's not my fault she's wearing some shiny lip stuff and her hair's all curly and wild. It's distracting.

"Sorry," I say automatically.

"You're a terrible driver, you know that?"

"At least I'm old enough to drive."

"Jake drives." Bella pulls her feet under her so she's in a small ball in the passenger seat.

"Whatever."

"And he doesn't text while he's driving either, so I don't fear for my life the whole time."

She seems exceptionally grumpy tonight, and I can't take her attitude and her pretty exterior. It's too much, so I snap. "What's your problem? Is it your _week_?"

Bella slowly turns her head to meet my eyes, and I know that look. She's done with me. "Shut up," she says simply.

We park the car and walk up the driveway and straight into Katie's kitchen while she continues to talk. "It's not my week. And you're an idiot."

"Who's an idiot?" Katie asks, her back to us as she stirs a large pot. Her foot's extended to keep Caleb out of her way, I guess.

"I am," Bella says, dejectedly.

"Of course you are. You're dating this bozo." Katie doesn't even look at me, but Bella does. I have a bit of an oh-I-see moment when I realize I've failed to tell my family that Bella and I are not a couple. I open my mouth, but no words come because Bella covers my lips with her index finger.

To my utter shock she blurts, "I know, but he's a good kisser. What can I say?"

"Ew, the only thing worse than hearing about Edward's kissing is hearing about Garrett's kissing." Katie makes a show of pretend vomiting on the floor, and Bella laughs at my expense. It's nice to know I won't be mocked while I'm a guest here for dinner. Where's Mom when I need her? She'd put a stop to this.

Mom doesn't come to my rescue though, so I say, "Now that is gross."

Katie laughs, but Bella glares. What did I do wrong? I never have any clue with this girl. Should I tell Katie we're not together or not? She's the one that went along with it.

Caleb hops up and down, screaming, but he's ignored. "Memaw. Memaw said mac-ah-cheese."

"Grandma's not here, baby. She went to a conference, and—"

"She's not here?" I ask, but Bella doesn't look shocked. This always happens to me when I'm around too many women in my family. I never seem to have any clue what's going on, and I'm the last to know anything.

Katie throws her hand out toward me like _duh_ and barrels on talking to her toddler. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you. But, apparently, at least one more. Don't have kids," she says to no one in particular. Katie swipes a hand across her sweaty forehead. She looks awful. Her clothes are too big, she's in slippers, and her hair looks like it's been in the same ponytail for days. I know this look well because many of my memories of Katie consist of her moping around the house and telling me to go away. Her, now, husband had just moved away to college, and she was going to die. Or so she said. "I miss him so much I'm going to die." I never understood that before. Now, I do.

I take a seat on the couch, and Bella walks the room, looking at pictures. "This is great, Katie." She's looking at a family portrait, one of those cheap studio ones you sign up for at the mall because you get a free eight by ten.

"Thanks, I put it up for Mom so she'd remember this is my home, not hers."

"How's that going?" Bella asks with a chuckle like she already knows. Maybe she does. I don't know how often they talk. I do know they used to a lot when we were younger. Bella saw her as some sort of surrogate sister, I suppose. That could still be the case, for all I know.

Katie drops her spoon, picks up Caleb to sit beside me on the couch and starts nursing. He seems a bit old for that, but what do I know? I'm not a parent. "She's, well, she's doing this realtor thing tonight, so hopefully she'll jump on that bandwagon and get her own apartment soon. But in the meantime she's taking over everything. My bathroom, my guestroom, my kitchen. I'm waiting for her to start breastfeeding Caleb. It'll be just like The Hand that Rocks the Cradle except for the whole spouse falling for her crap because I would kill Greg. Like kill him."

"But wouldn't you miss him so much you'd die?" I can't resist.

"You're annoying. Why do I ever miss you?" She reaches up to put Caleb's foot down, which seems to be aiming for her ear.

I give her my best charming smile and flash it to Bella, too. Neither respond.

"So tell me all about it. How did this happen?" Katie gestures between the two of us. This is where I should come clean. Only I can't because Bella is talking.

"The night your parents sat Edward down to tell him about the separation he came over to tell me. He was really upset, and we just sat together for awhile."

"Wait, where were you?" Katie asks, like this detail is important. Who the hell cares where we were? Girls are weird. The main question should be, was their tongue? But she doesn't ask that.

"My backyard," Bella says.

Katie squeals in excitement or possibly over the fact that Caleb's hand is dancing around under her shirt.

"But anyway," Bella continues, "so we're there and then something shifted between us, you know." Yeah, I know. Katie nods her head, like she understands. "He reached for me, and we . . . kissed."

"Slow or fast?" Katie asks, earnest.

"Fast and hard," Bella says without hesitation, and it sounds so dirty I want to capitalize on it.

"Go, Edward!" Katie says, smacking my knee. I shrug and cast my eyes on Bella. "It was good?"

"So good. The best," Bella says with a breathy voice, looking directly at me. I want to take her into the guest room, throw her on the bed and really kiss her. We're here for dinner, though, and that would be rude. "We made out for a while, and he said some sweet things, and that was that."

"Aw, well, you two are the cutest. Except for you." She pokes me in the thigh. "You look too much like Garrett, and he used to fart on my face. Not cute." Katie turns her attention to Caleb and says, "Okay, all done," with some sort of baby sign. Caleb grabs hold of her breast and won't let go. She pulls away anyway, and with a slurping pop, he's sitting on the couch and she's in the kitchen. Mothering is weird.

Dinner goes by quickly as Katie has plenty to complain about what with Greg's work schedule, Mom living there, and Caleb being, well, Caleb. Bella tells Katie a bit about Northern and her plans to go into Sports Medicine. I had no idea. What changed?

On the drive home, I'm utterly confused. Bella's mad at me, but she spent over an hour pretending we were dating. She also admitted our kiss was good and I was sweet. And she did it all with this intense look in her eye, like she was reliving it. Does she want to do it again? What gives? What does she want?

The confusion gives way to anger, and I suddenly feel like I have to have some answers. "Why didn't you tell me about Northern? I had to hear about it from Jake."

"You never asked," she says, eyes on the road.

"Katie didn't ask."

"Yes, she did. She said, 'so what are your plans for college?' That would be asking."

"Fine," I say, tugging my hat down, brewing in my bad mood. I hate this.

"You know, most people when they have conversations . . . they, well . . . it's a give and take. You ask a question. I ask a question." Her voice is high as if she's explaining this whole thing to Caleb. If it weren't directed at me, it'd be funny as hell. But it is directed at me; so is her next bit of condescension. "But not if you're Edward. Edward just likes to answer questions. Don't you, Edward?"

"You want questions?"

"It would be nice," she says sternly.

"Why did you just pretend we were going out?"

Bella crosses her arms and huffs. "As a trained conversationalist, I reserve the right to deny you answers to your questions."

"Then why would I ask them if you're not going to answer them?" This is getting idiotic.

"I don't know. Why did it take you your whole life to realize I was worth asking a question to?"

"That is not true," I say, risking a glance at her.

"It is true."

"I know you," I say indignantly. "I don't have to ask you questions because I just know stuff, okay?"

"That's stupid."

"Whatever." I flick my brim a few times and end up pulling my hat off and resting it on the middle console.

Bella bumps it with her elbow, knocking it to the floor. If my mother were here, I'd ask her to referee this fight. We surely need one.

I exhale loudly, trying to avoid biting back at Bella. That wouldn't help at this point. It'd just rile her up. I think up another plan and scrub my hair before speaking again. "So if you're going to go on with this charade you won't mind if I do this then?" I reach over her lap and slip my hand in hers. She stares at it then closes her eyes like it hurts her to see it.

Her reaction—and her closed eyes—makes me feel braver than I actually am. "Why are you still kissing Jake when you know I like you? We could try this, Bella. I want to try it." I punctuate my words with a squeeze to her hand.

"You're not ready for this," she mumbles.

"What does that even mean?"

"Exactly."

She's so frustrating. "I'm so tired of this. Will you just speak English? I kiss you once, and it's like you've gone crazy. Like you're this nutzo, kissing other guys, changing your college plans."

"Poor Edward doesn't get what he wants," she laments.

"No, I don't. Not lately, anyway. I have nothing I want. Except for this. Right here, right now." I tug on her hand and stroke her wrist with my finger. "But it's temporary and not for lack of trying."

"Yeah, I know."

I sneak a peek, and she's wide eyed now, peering down at our joined hands. "Do you have to say it with such disdain?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Is it so revolting that I want to be with you? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you kissed me back. You had a big ol' dopey grin on your face like I had made your world."

"Before you crushed it."

"I'm sorry I said anything. I wish I hadn't even opened my mouth other than to kiss you. That's all my mouth wants to do anymore, anyway."

She inhales sharply and looks my way.

"Don't you know that? That every second I'm without you, I think about you. That every second I'm with you, I want you in my arms, in my lap, kissing me. But at this rate it's not going to happen because, somehow, some way, in the last few weeks I've managed to make you hate me so much that you've given up on us completely."

"That's not true." It's a whisper. Her index finger twitches next to mine, and my heart drums a faster rhythm in my chest.

I'm spent. Worried she won't say more if I do, so I keep quiet and concentrate on the feel of her hand in mine as I drive.

"I'm not giving up. I'm trying other things, weighing my options."

"And?" I ask softly.

"I don't know yet."

"But you're still mad at me."

"I can't help it. You disappointed me. You know how long I waited for that kiss?"

"No, but I wish you would've just told me that you wanted me to kiss you to begin with."

"Unrequited love doesn't work that way."

I have no idea what to say about love. I don't know anything about it. I've never been in love before, but I have been dealing with Bella's anger. So I take that angle. "Well, you got a ballpark for me yet?"

"Dodger Stadium."

"We're getting there," I say with a relieving sigh.

"Yeah."

"You know, anytime you want me to kiss you again, you just let me know, all right?"

"All right," she says, eyes straight ahead.

"You got a ballpark for that?"

"Wrigley."

"Dammit." She's too angry to be kissed; I'm back where I started.

She laughs and turns the radio up while we drive the rest of the way home, our hands clasped together in her lap.

**A/N: So that happened. I know it's confusing. Teenagers are confusing. Please remember that Edward is the only one we're really hearing from. I promise as Edward evolves, we will hear more from Bella. Okay? Okay.**

**Thank you for all your kind words. I've actually been able to do more replies than I thought, so yay! And the general consensus for the last chapter was this: Bella needs to put her posters back up (NOW!), and Edward needs a hug and a sandwich. Have I told you you're cute, lately? Because you are!**


	7. Chapter 7 Fame and Fortune

**Playlist: Your Body is a Wonderland by John Mayer**

**Plot Generator—Phrase Catch****: Fame and fortune.**

**Chapter 7**

I head into my dark house, not even fazed by my depressing family drama. I'm still high off of Bella's hand in mine. I hold my own up to smell it and, sure enough, sweet vanilla invades my senses. When I drop it and lift my head, I spot a pair of eyes staring at me from the dinner table.

"Dad? What? Why are you sitting in the dark?" I flip the switch and scan the table, which is filled with food, pots and pans, and place settings.

"Where have you been?"

"I had dinner at Katie's. Mom invited me."

"I have been waiting here for over an hour, and now the food's cold and everything's ruined."

"I'm sorry; I didn't know. We haven't eaten together in a while."

"That's why I made us dinner."

"You should have—"

"Forget it." Dad stands up and strolls past me without a second glance.

I tiptoe behind him toward my room, but before I get there he whips around to face me.

"I work hard everyday, busting my ass for this family, and nobody cares. I came home early tonight, I cleaned the kitchen, I made your favorite—tuna noodle casserole—and you couldn't even be here."

"Tuna noodle casserole is Garrett's favorite. I had no idea you wanted me home. I can't do something you want unless you tell me about it."

"I'm telling you now, dammit! I want your butt sitting at the dinner table at seven every night, you got it!" His cheeks are red, his eyes narrow. I haven't seen him this angry since Garrett accidentally punched Mom when he was aiming for Katie. He got locked out of the house for that one.

"I get it. Okay. I'll be here. You don't have to yell at me."

"I just . . ." He drops his chin and tugs fitfully at his hair. It looks wild like mine, a tangled mess.

"I know."

"I miss my family," Dad admits. He's sincere, and it's sad.

"You miss Mom. I miss Mom."

"I do miss your mother, but, Edward, I miss you and Katie and Garrett, too."

"Well, then do something about it," I say.

Dad shakes his head and stuffs his hands in his slacks. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

"Okay, you want me to clean up?"

"Just . . . leave it. I don't care."

I shrug, and he turns into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I sit on my bed finishing a short English assignment, but all I can think about is the strange fight with my dad. I text Bella on impulse, needing someone to talk to.

_My Dad's losing it. –E _

I finish a few lines of my paper and then get a response.

_Good. He should be. But I'm sorry you're having to deal with it. You okay? –B _

_Not really. _I hit send and wonder if that was the right thing to say. I worry about my words so much lately. I never know what will set her or anyone else off.

_You want me to come over? –B _

My heart slams in my chest. She wants to come over? She's suggesting it. Hell, yes, I want her to come over.

_Yes. Backdoor in two. –E _

I change into my PJs quickly, so I can be more comfortable and find, when I open my door, she's done the same. I smile at her monkey boxers—my monkey boxers—and try not to say anything stupid like is that a banana in your pants, or are you just happy to see me? Because A. that's immature, and B. she's a girl and doesn't have a _banana_. Dumb. I could gain fame and fortune if I wrote a bad joke book for ten year olds. They'd love it. If engineering doesn't pan out, I could go that route.

We move quietly into my bedroom and slip inside undetected. There aren't restrictions on Bella's visits, but I don't want to upset Dad about anything else.

Bella saunters to my bed. She caps my pen and stacks my book and papers before placing them on my small desk. She sits back against the wall and tucks her hands between her double red-striped, tube-socked feet. I wish I had a camera in my room to capture her there. Her simplicity is beautiful, and the way she fits on my bed and in the mess of my stuff makes me feel tight in my stomach.

"Your house smells good," she says.

"Dad made dinner," I say with a frown.

"Oh no. Poor Carlisle. He can't catch a break."

"Like father, like son," I say and sit beside Bella, slumping on the same pillow that rests behind her. "Remember when our family went with yours to the lake for that fishing thing?"

"Yeah," she says, smiling and looking at me. Her grin lights up her face, and I want to touch her, hold her, so I do. I slip my hand in hers again, this time feeling the curves of her fingers.

"My Dad was so mad when he made that fish and no one would eat it," I say, snickering.

"It was terrible. I don't even know what he could've done to have made it so awful."

We giggle side by side at the memory, her body wiggling next to mine, and I'm bombarded with memories of Bella here in my bed doing this same thing—talking and laughing, being with me, but this is different. Because the truth is out now, and it creates an ache in my heart. I want this to be what it used to be, plus more.

I hold her hand to my chest and cover it with my other. I wish she could feel the beat of my heart and know it's for her, know that she's the reason I'm getting through any of this.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, voice soft and comforting.

"No, just having you here is good."

"You want to talk about us?"

I roll to my side, and she rolls with me since I'm holding her hand hostage. We're face to face, her hair falling into her eyes. She brushes it away and looks down, away from my eyes. I want to tip her chin toward me and draw her into a kiss, but I don't. Instead, I say, "Yeah. Let's talk about us."

"You asked me about Jake. Why I'm kissing him." I nod but keep my mouth closed. "I'm kissing him because he deserves it."

"He deserves it? You're not an award for good behavior or something."

"Just listen, okay? Don't judge."

I stay silent while she explains that she was volunteering to help out the football players. She was icing knees and bandaging scrapes, and Jake twisted his ankle during a rough play. She cleaned him up, wrapped his ankle, and the two spent the rest of the season on the sidelines talking while everyone played. Where I was during all of this, I don't know. But I suppose Friday nights are generally reserved for girlfriends if you have one, and I did.

"He put in the time, the effort, he's nice and funny and cute, and he wants to know everything about me. It's nice to be around someone who's interested." Her honesty, while appreciated, hits my ego a bit. I don't want to hear about how great Jake is. I want to hear about how great I am, but I'm not going to tell her that. That's selfish.

"I'm interested," I say quietly.

"I like him. There's nothing about him that I don't like." There's something in her eyes that catches my attention, so I call her on it.

"There's always something. There has to be some problem."

"He's not you," she says, her big brown eyes on mine.

"I like that problem," I admit openly.

Bella laughs and tilts her head up to the ceiling. Her neck calls out to me, and I can't stand it so I stroke her soft skin there. Her breathing becomes heavier, and she speaks in stutters as I continue to touch her.

"These stars are . . . they're so old. You should," she swallows thickly, and I sweep her hair from her neck and up the pillow, "take them down."

"I don't want to," I say and lean in to get a closer look as my finger swirls around beneath her earlobe. "They remind me of you. So much reminds me of you. Socks," I say, stroking the outside of her calf up to her thigh. "And ratty old boxers." I slide my hand across her stomach, and she shudders beneath my light touch. "And sports bras," I say, running my hand across her shoulder to discover there's nothing there but the soft cotton of her t-shirt. I tug at the collar of her shirt with a crooked finger and ask, "Can I kiss you here?"

"Yes," she whispers.

I place my hand on her waist and lean in kissing her neck and following down to her shoulder, exposing skin as I go. I smooth gentle kisses over her collarbone and breathe her in. I nuzzle my head into her neck when I'm done because I don't want to push her.

Bella places her hand on my stomach as my muscles contract involuntarily, begging her to touch more.

"You're killing me here," I mumble into her neck. She doesn't say anything, but she circles my belly button over the fabric of my shirt. "Are you feeling this? What we have?"

"For years, Edward." She peeks up at me and smiles softly.

"How did I miss it? I'm so dumb."

She bites her lip and tries not to laugh.

"I've missed out on so much. I mean," I pull her shirt to the side again, exposing her shoulder, "look at all these freckles I could've been kissing." I give each one a peck, and Bella giggles at my silliness. But it's true. I want to kiss every damn freckle on her body.

I notice one on her thigh and am so tempted, but I resist the urge by wrapping my arm around her and tucking her into my side. "Could you maybe just think about not kissing Jake anymore?"

She takes a deep breath. "I owe him a chance; I'm going to give it to him."

That is not what I want to hear. Not at all, so I throw Jake under the bus. "You know he lied about his ankle."

"I know."

"You know? And you let him get away with it? You kicked me in the shins when you found out I missed that game 'cause I wanted to see Iron Man in three-d."

"Yeah, and you deserved it. Your team needed you. What Jake did was sweet. What he did was for me."

"I could do _stuff_ for you," I blurt without thinking.

"Like what?" she asks, all innocence.

A flirtatious smirk takes shape on my face as I think about all the things I've learned over the years I know she'd enjoy. We could both enjoy them. Together.

I give her waist a little squeeze. What I said finally registers, and her eyes go wide. "Edward, oh my gosh!" She grabs hold of my t-shirt and laughs into my chest. Her shyness is adorable. And I can't wait until I can help her get over it.

**A/N: Well, this was a good week for me in Fandom Land. Kassiah flailed on The Fictionators about Never Said I Didn't (because, you know, it's high school), it was in The Lemonade Stand Nursery, and now it's on the poll. Go vote for your favorite fic today! Link is on my profile!**

**Thank you for all your alerts, favorites, and reviews. This is fun for me, so I hope it's fun for you, too!**


	8. Chapter 8 Clutter

**Playlist: Here Goes Nothing by NeverShoutNever!**

**Word Prompt****: Clutter**

**Chapter 8**

Over the next few days, life lightens up a little. It's about time.

On Thursday I learn something very important: Bella is attracted to me. Like really attracted.

I crept up behind her early morning, peering over her shoulder and into her locker just to bug her. She hates hoverers. I leaned too far forward and steadied my hand on her back to keep myself from plowing into her. She shivered just from my touch. I thought perhaps it was just a fluke, but when I said hi into her neck her reaction was even more pronounced. In the reflection of her tiny mirror I saw her close her eyes and inhale deeply, like she was trying to ward off her lust and clear her head.

Anytime I saw her after that, I smiled. I couldn't help it. And that simple action, my uncontrollable grin aimed her way, gave her shy eyes.

The realization that she is so into me is amazing. How I did not know this before, I have no idea. But I am using it to my advantage.

During practice I catch her eyes a few times when she's doing drills not so far away. I get those shy eyes again. I want to know what she's thinking about. Maybe how I kissed her neck over the weekend. I know I can't stop thinking about it. Since I can't talk to her, I wave to her from afar instead, garnering giggles and catcalls from her teammates. Good. I hope they tell her how cute I am, so she'll get jealous and go for it. Go for me.

After practice I lose my shirt and wait for her outside the locker rooms. It won't hurt being half naked, right? I mean, if she wanted to be half naked I wouldn't complain, so . . .

She's walking with her teammate, Claire, their cleats hitting the concrete as they get closer. "Hi, Edward," Claire says, with a flourishy wave, looking me up and down.

"Um, hi," I say, looking at Bella though speaking to Claire.

"You need help in the shower?" she asks, giggling.

"Not unless Bella's available," I quip.

"Lucky bitch." Claire bumps Bella with her shoulder playfully and saunters away.

"What are you doing?" Bella questions suspiciously, trying to avert her eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," I say, pulling my hat off and messing up my hair. I tuck the brim into the back of my pants.

"You don't know what . . . are you kidding me?"

"No. I have no clue what you're—"

I can't finish because Jake shows up. Perfect. He must have been watching her practice. What a loser. Then again, if Bella hung around watching me practice, I wouldn't mind. But she has her own practice. This is stupid.

"It's hot out here," Bella says, wiping her brow dramatically. She's a terrible actress.

"Sure is," Jake agrees.

"Wish I was a boy so I could just . . ." Bella mimes whipping off her shirt.

"It is nice; you should try it," Jake says and takes off his shirt with a wink. It's not even pervy when he does it. And, damn, he's built. I knew he was, but this is ridiculous. At least he's shorter than I am.

Emmett, my team captain, bellows my name as he comes upon us. "Yo, why are we getting naked?"

"Them. Not me," Bella says innocently. "Edward might know, though."

Emmett looks to me, and I manage, "I was just hot and, um, yeah." Bella's turned me into an imbecile.

"Me, too." Emmett smoothes his shirt over his head, and Bella smiles, taking a long, hard look at all three of us. I didn't think over this well enough. "Come on, Bella, let's hit the showers and leave these losers." He wraps his arm around her shoulders and walks her to the entryway where there's a split: right for girls, left for boys. Luckily for me, they head in opposite directions.

I say goodbye to Jake, and when I get inside Emmett laughs loudly at my expression. I guess I look a little irritated. "Relax, bro. I like blondes. And don't be so obvious, dude."

"She likes me."

"She won't for long if you act like a douche. And Jake's a good option."

I narrow my eyes.

He holds his hands up. "Just saying, bro, just saying."

Dammit, he's right. I've never acted like this before around a girl. Things just happened with my other girlfriends. It was easy. Sure, I flirted and tried to look nice and be charming, but I never flaunted myself before. I'll have to tone it down a bit.

Later at night when I head to Bella's to study, I find her in her room wearing her baseball hat, her basketball shorts, and a tight tank with no bra. She's trying to kill me. We studied, but somehow I still manage to get a C on my calculus quiz the next day.

**-NSID-**

While I find joy in the daytime trying to flirt with Bella and get her attention, my nights—apart from moments studying with Bella—are rather drab.

True to my dad's word, we eat dinner at seven o'clock at the table. It's there I conclude that he is terrible at talking to people. Our conversations are riveting and all have to do with vegetables.

"Can you pass the broccoli?"

"Sure, here."

"Is there gravy for the potatoes?"

"I don't know how to make gravy."

"Oh, okay."

That's about it.

How did I not know this about my dad? I guess he simply wasn't there that often, choosing to stay late with one last patient. And if he was, dinner conversation consisted of my mom chatting about her day and asking me about mine. I always felt happy and content during our family dinners, but now, it's depressing. And I'm losing hope for my parents. If he can't talk to me—and we're technically on good terms—how's he going to talk to my mom so they can solve their problems?

After my game Friday night—which Mom attends, wearing my number and cheering like mad—I try to get Dad engaged in conversation and my life. "The season's almost over. You gonna make it to any games?"

"You know I want to, Edward."

"Do I? You really want to go?"

"Of course I do."

"You've never said so. Even Mom came today, and she's busy looking for a new place to live."

"Of course she was there." He takes a grumpy bite of his carrots that weren't microwaved long enough. They're frozen in the middle still.

"Don't be mad at her because she's a good parent."

Dad snaps his eyes to mine. He loosens his tie and sucks down the rest of his drink. "You may be excused," he says coldly.

"I just sat down," I argue.

"Then get up."

"No, I'm hungry. I just came back from a game. Which you would know if you had been there."

"Fine." Dad's fuming. He's got that look in his eye like he wants to hit me, but he won't. He used to give Garrett that look all the time.

We sit in silence while we chew our Stouffer's lasagna. "This is good," I say, trying again. It can't hurt.

"It was frozen."

"I know," I respond lamely.

That's about it.

I tried.

**-NSID-**

After two nights (which feels like a whole month) in a row of pathetic meals, and even more pathetic attempted conversations, I miss my mother something terrible. I knew that I loved my mother. I knew that I counted on her for a lot. But I didn't know I was a momma's boy. I don't know if there's a definition for momma's boy, but if there is, my picture's probably next to that definition. Ask me if I care? Go ahead. Not one bit.

During the weekend, I visit with my mom at her new apartment. She signed the lease today and wanted me over to celebrate. I imagine Katie's having a celebration of her own.

We sit among her moving boxes and chow down on pizza. She's so relaxed in her t-shirt and jeans, hair pulled up in a sloppy bun. She looks young. Happy.

"Things are coming along. I got the job working for that realtor, Nancy—the one I looked at rental homes with. She's a sweetie. Anyway, she's going to train me in addition to helping me get my license and everything."

"That sounds good. You like houses."

"I do." She smiles and throws me a water bottle. "I sold one already."

"You're not even official yet."

"I'm that good."

"You're good at everything."

"Not everything," she says, eyes trained on the ground. She recovers quickly saying, "But what I am good at is imagining a furnished house. So I get people to tell me about their stuff, and then I lay it out for them." She stands and walks around the room, eyes wide. "And over here, you can put your couch. And there, that hutch from your grandmother. They eat it up. If they feel comfortable and can see themselves living there, they'll buy it. Well, that couple I sold to did. I hope it works out. Anyway . . ." She sits back down, eating more pizza. "There're classes I can take online. It's a lot easier than I thought."

"Having a career separate from Dad, or living on your own?"

"Both, actually. But I miss you, honey. I like the freedom of doing what I want when I want, but the nights are lonely."

"Tell me about it."

"You're lonely?" she asks. "I thought you'd be spending a lot of time with Bella."

"Actually," I begin, then start over. "So I need your help."

"With what?" she asks, eyes bright, eager to serve. Always.

"I want Bella to fall in love with me."

Mom chokes on her pizza because she's laughing so hard. She calms herself down, shakes her head, and cups my cheek. "Oh, honey," is all she says. I have no idea what that means, but I miss her affection, so I lean into her touch and close my eyes. There's nothing sweeter than my mom.

I take in the moment, pull back, and get started. "We're not exactly going out, like you thought."

"You're not? Why not?"

"It's complicated. There's this guy—"

My mom makes a _pfft_ noise and swats the air. "You're fine. She'll choose you, I know it."

"She hasn't yet."

"Well, what's going on?"

"Well, I kissed her, and she misconstrued something I said, and now I can't seem to come back from it. I just keep digging a bigger hole."

"Did you apologize?"

"Yeah." I nod vehemently because I have. And I've made my intentions known.

"What did she say?"

"She said she wanted me to pretend like it never happened."

"And what did you do?"

"I tried to do as she asked but—"

Mom's glaring with a frown on her face.

"What?" I ask because really I don't need Mom's get-in-here-right-now look.

"I've failed another one," she laments.

"Failed what?"

"You don't get it. You're just like them."

"Like who?"

"Your dad and Garrett."

"I am not."

"Yeah, you are. A little bit, anyway." She sighs and takes a long pull from her bottled water. "This is what you're going to do. Are you listening?"

I set my pizza down and scoot closer. This seems important. I don't want to miss it.

"You forget about your messy room, homework, baseball, our family problems, you hear? You clear all that clutter out of your life, and you focus on one thing."

"Okay," I say, nodding. "What's that?"

"Chasing Bella."

"What?"

"That girl has been waiting for you to stop being so ignorant since she was in training bras. She was testing you. Will you give up easily? Or will you fight the fight? She wants to know. She's running, Edward. Are you chasing her?"

"I'm . . ."

Mom sets her eyebrows, and her mouth forms a thin line. "Is she worth it? Are. You. Chasing. Her?'

"Yes."

"Good, now go."

"Now?" I ask, chortling.

"Yes, now. The chase is on. Go get her!"

"I love you." I kiss my mom on the cheek, steal my pizza to-go, and head home to catch Bella.

**A/N: Today's the last day to vote at The Lemonade Stand for Fic of the Week. Link is on my profile. Regardless of who you vote for, thank you for your readership. I'm always surprised when I post a story and people read it. And like it. It shocks me every time. **

**Know what else shocks me? Reader reactions to the same character. Wow. Half of you love Bella, are giving her the benefit of the doubt, and think she's doing the best she can in her situation, while the other half think she's a two-timing whore. Interesting. **

**Thank for your reviews and Twitter spam. I loves me some spam. And I love you.**


	9. Chapter 9 Scooter

**Playlist: ****Here We Go by Matt Kearney**

**Word Prompt****: Scooter**

**Chapter 9**

My attempt to begin my game of Catch Bella comes to a screeching halt when I discover she's out with Jake. It's like a bat to the skull with a dull ache that won't leave.

I understand what she was saying. Jake's a good guy; he shouldn't be dumped for no reason. But she's not even technically dating him, and don't I count as a reason? I guess not since, according to her, "_I'm not ready yet_." I still don't understand what that means, but I'm trying to. And I'm trying to do the right thing, so I don't freak out. I grin and bear it.

And continue to grin and bear it throughout the week as I watch them roam halls together and eat at the same lunch table across from me. It's even more annoying as time goes by because I sort of like the dude that's trying to steal Bella. He's a cool guy. Still . . . go away!

After a home game, I shower and sit outside the girls' locker room waiting for Bella. Jake lopes over to me with a heavy stride and nods hello.

"Good game, man. I caught the end of it with Bella."

"Yeah, thanks. Their pitcher was junk."

"Even so, you made some great catches out there. And you're fast. I thought Bella was fast—"

"She is," I say defensively.

"—but you can really fly."

"Charlie coached us when we were kids. He was tough. Good, but tough."

"Yeah, I met him officially last weekend."

"And?"

"Not too tough."

"He's got guns everywhere. Just watch it."

"Yeah." Jake laughs nervously.

I'm getting sick of this nice jerk. Doesn't anything faze him? I wish it would, so I try something a little scandalous, even for me. "You been laid yet?"

Not even a second passes before he responds. "Of course. You?'

I shrug. None of his damn business.

"Tanya. Right. Heard about her," he says.

"You know Bella hasn't, right?"

He looks directly at me, irritation etched in his features. Maybe I am getting to him. "You sure about that?" _No, but we did promise we'd tell each other when it happened. Neither one of us has had anything to share with the other yet._

I clench my fists and gaze out into the field, trying not to sucker punch him in the face.

"We don't have to do this. I'm not into games. I know you like her. I even know about the kiss. It's cool. I get it, but she likes me more. That's it. End of story," he says, matter of fact.

"It's not the end of the story. Bella and I have history way beyond some nurse/patient whirlwind romance."

Jake squints his eyes like he's deciding if I'm homosexual or not. I've watched too many of Bella's movies lately while trying to be more courteous.

"It's just not gonna happen. She won't be with you for the long term. I'm just telling you," I add, trying to get through to this douche.

"Then why did she have a meeting with an academic adviser at North last week?" He folds his massive arms over his chest.

Dammit, why does he know so much about her that I don't? "What's even at North?" I ask, feeling desperate.

"That girl. The one that was in sports medicine for the major leagues. Carmen de Somebody."

"de Santo," I correct.

"Yeah. Bella admires her. Big time."

"Shit," I blurt, losing my cool. Girls start pouring out of the locker room, but Bella's not out yet.

"For you," Jake says with a wide, bright white toothy grin.

"Dammit."

"Wish I could help you out," he says none too convincingly.

"No you don't."

"I don't," he admits with a shrug.

It pisses me off, so I say, "She's in love with me. You know that, right?"

"You sure about that?" Smug bastard.

"Yes." _I wish._

"Then why'd she accept my invitation to prom? Isn't it most girls' dream to go to prom with whoever they're in love with and not their second choice?"

I have nothing to say to this. I'm at a complete loss. It seems Bella has made her choice: this guy, this town, this college. And I'll be alone. Still.

But this is a test, and I'm supposed to be chasing her. So when Bella emerges—hair wet from her shower in a thick braid down her back, smelling blessedly like vanilla—I tag along with her and Jake to Denny's for a bite to eat. I text my dad on the way there to make sure he's not sitting at an empty kitchen table waiting for me. He isn't; he's stuck at work.

I sit across from Bella and try to ignore Jake, engaging her in lots of conversation. It's all I've got unless I want to strip naked and do a table dance to get her attention. And somehow I think even at Denny's I'd be kicked out.

". . . Garrett was so pissed when he realized we broke his scooter."

Bella's breathless, cheeks flushed from laughing. "I totally forgot that. Didn't he spend the night at whatshisname's house for a week?"

"Yeah, the bedwetter."

She chortles and lifts her drink before squinting at it. She removes the lemon from her water and drops it into my cup. I smile at the familiar action and gaze on as she lowers her head, tilting it to sip her water. She's so goofy how she does that. I don't know why she doesn't bring the glass to her lips like a normal person, but I don't care because it's cute.

It's also pretty cute that she gave me her lemon. Jake's lemon sits on a side plate, sad and lonely. They can't even complement each other in water drinking. It's official: I'm the better choice. Besides, I bet he eats all the crunchy chips in the Chex Mix, and I know those are for Bella—her favorite.

"Did you pick a dress yet?" Jake asks, throwing an arm around Bella's seat. Territorial much?

"No, you just asked me," she says, then catches my eyes. "Jake asked me to prom. Last week."

"I heard." The blow's softened a bit now that I know when it all went down—before I was kissing on her and told her I liked her—but it still sucks.

"Paul said he was gonna get a limo. Should be fun. You should get a date of your own, Edward, and join us," Jake says.

"I think I'm good," I say and leave it at that.

But no one else does. I'm asked by Bree and Senna if I'd like to go to prom the following week. I hadn't even realized prom was so close. It doesn't matter, though, because I went last year, and this year the only girl I want to go with is going with someone else.

**-NSID-**

My arms pump, and my thighs burn as I chase the ball that flew just out of my reach. It's closer to in-field than out-field, so it's mine. I dive for the ball to stop its descent, and I'm up, throwing with all my might to third before the runner can get there. But I'm too late, and the jock slips by, scoring on us.

Damn. I throw my gloved hand on top of my head and groan. My game's been garbage lately, and I can't get out of this funk. Luckily, my team makes up for my mistakes, and we're up to bat.

There's one more inning, and I'm lethargic and want to go home. I sit on the bench, head low, thinking about Bella and my dad and Mom and why my life sucks. How did it turn to crap in such a short amount of time? It's exhausting being miserable.

"Cullen!" Coach barks.

"Yep?" I snap my head up.

"You're up."

I need to pay attention. This is pathetic. I was better than this when I was playing t-ball.

I warm up, taking a few swings. The batter ahead of me hits a double, setting the bar high. I take my stance, gripping the bat and toeing the ground. I grind my teeth, excited to take my anger out on the ball.

Here's the pitch.

Crack!

It's up, high and to the left.

"Foul ball," the umpire calls.

"Come on, Edward!" a familiar voice yells.

I turn and tip up my helmet to see Bella's friendly face. She's in uniform pants but lost her shirt, wearing a tank instead, showing off her tan, sweaty skin. She's gorgeous. I smile and turn back to my game, rejuvenated.

"Hit 'em hard, Edward. Let's go," she says, cheering me on.

The ball flies, and I swing and miss.

"Shake it off. The next one's yours! Take it, Edward, it's yours!"

Something about her calling my name builds me up, makes me feel like I can't miss, like it's physically impossible.

The ball comes, and my swing's dead on. I book it to first and keep my eye on the outfielder who's chasing my grounded ball. He fumbles, but he's on it, too. I hedge closer to second but hesitate until Bella calls out, "Go for it! Run your ass as fast as you can!" So I do!

The outfielder's throw is crap, and I'm free to keep running, making it all the way to third and sending two of my teammates home. It was a great play.

With my hands on my knees and heart pumping blood furiously through my body, I look over my shoulder to see a dorky thumbs up from Bella. That simple action sends me into a frenzy. She's amazing. She's sweet and kind and beautiful, and I want her in every way. I need her.

_I love her._

I can't take my eyes off her at my realization and nearly miss the smack of the bat hitting the ball and stumble a bit as I run from third to home. Bella cheers me on, swinging her hat in the air, and yelling some chant.

When I make it into the dugout I gaze her way, and she tilts her hat to me in a goofy bow. It's my E hat. The one I left in her room weeks ago to mark my space, mark my girl, and she's wearing it. Her long ponytail pokes through the back, swishing as she moves. My cheeks hurt, I'm smiling so hard.

The game's over shortly, and Bella meets me outside by the buses. She's bag-less and swings her keys around her finger. "Want a ride?" she asks.

"How'd you drive?" I ask, pointing to the buses.

"Doctor's appointment. I had a note."

"Ah."

"So?"

"Jake here?"

"Nope," she says, smiling coyly. I like this very much.

"Hey, Marcus!"

"What?" he bellows from inside the bus, his head sticking out.

"Tell coach I went home with Bella."

"Dude, he'll make you run tomorrow."

"Don't care."

"Your choice. Whatever," he says, retreating into the hot bus.

"Let's go," I say, hitching my bag up higher.

I climb into her Metro and squish my long legs into the front seat, searching frantically for the lever to move it back.

Bella gets in and buckled without a hitch and laughs at my expense.

"I forgot you drive a clown car," I grumble.

"I'm sorry. You wanna be stuck with that stinky bunch a hoodlums? Run back. They haven't left yet."

"Shutting up," I say, setting her AC on high and combing through my hair, trying to dry my sweat. The drive home from away games is the worst. Especially in a bus full of smelly teenage guys. I hold my sleeves open to get some air into my wet pits.

Bella laughs, shaking her head. "You look ridiculous."

"I stink."

"I stink, too, and I've been smelling you my whole life. If it hasn't deterred me yet, it's not going to."

"Good to know," I say, dropping my arms. "And I'm guessing you won't be deterred if I get half naked then, either?" This isn't about looking hot. This is about being hot. I don't wait for a response and strip my sticky shirt from my torso. It's disgusting.

She looks me over and smiles, not saying a word for a moment. "Okay, are you trying to tempt me? Is that what all your sudden nudity is about?" she asks, biting her lip.

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"Mmm," is all she says.

"You could reciprocate," I mumble, and she laughs.

To my surprise, at the next stoplight she takes the bait and strips out of her tank, leaving only her sports bra on. It's like slow motion the way she peels it off, revealing more skin of hers than I've seen in a long time. I think the last time she was this exposed was around Christmas when her mom was in town bugging her, and she was doing her utmost to be unlady-like. At the time it was funny, normal, and no big deal. Now, her bare skin shocks me, and I don't know what to say because things have developed since then. Things being: A. my desire to touch her. Anywhere. And B. Bella. Yeah, she's, um, different. Bigger.

"Too much?" she asks, grimacing like she made a mistake.

"I'm not complaining." I stare blatantly. This is so obnoxious, but I can't help it.

She smiles wide, taking a corner fast, forcing me to hold the SOB bar. She's enjoying this too much. I like seeing her so happy, though.

We're near home when she suggests we hang out at the park. I'm not due for dinner for about an hour, so I'm good to go.

We pull out our gear and play an elementary game of catch, only it's not like any other game of catch I've ever played before. My eyes focus on her four pack, her cleavage, and the graceful yet powerful way she throws. I wish I could get this crap on video so I could watch it over and over. A half naked Bella playing baseball in my hat is all kinds of hot.

"You wanna hit?" she asks after her last catch.

I agree and grab my bat, setting up, waiting for her pitch. It takes a few swings to get used to her style—and her leaning over like that—but I get the hang of it and send a few balls far enough that I hope it impresses her.

"You're up, pitcher," she says, tossing the ball lightly so I can catch it bare handed.

"I suck at pitching."

"I know," she says, laughing as she takes my bat from me.

I throw underhand, and true to my words I'm terrible, even hitting her once. I'm ready to call it quits when she suggests I help her with her batting instead.

"Did you know where that ball was going to go today when you hit it?" she asks in her stance before throwing the ball herself and smacking it.

"Yeah, I always know." She gives me a yeah-right look, so I add, "Well, mostly."

"How do you know? You can't, like, aim."

"Sure you can," I say as I watch her from my seat on the ground while picking blades of grass one by one from the field.

"How?"

"Coach Biers taught me. I'll show you." I stand and wipe my hands off on my uniform pants. Some more grass stains can't hurt. I saunter to Bella, and she watches me the whole way, her eyes moving all around my body. I love the way she looks at me, her shy eyes getting braver. "Okay, take your position," I say.

She turns away from me and bends her knees, her hands in a tight grip on the bat. I'm behind her, giving her some breathing room, but I want to be pressed up against her and feel all that skin. I stay where I am, though, since she has a bat and all. I clear my throat. "Now where do you want the ball to go?"

"Um, second base," she says timidly.

"Okay, so, um," I take another step closer, placing my hand on her hip and rotating it to the left slightly. "Now point your left foot . . ." I bend and slide my hand down her leg, mostly because I want to, but also to position her foot so it's aimed at second base. I stand, catching Bella's eyes. Her mouth is partially open, and she seems a bit confused. Did I do that?

"That's it?" she asks.

"That's it. Now hit it." I place my hand on her waist and point over her shoulder toward second base, my nose against her neck. "Right there."

"Um, you might want to move."

"I don't, really," I say, sneaking a small kiss beneath her ear before giving her room to swing.

She rolls her head, then her shoulders, and bends a little lower. She throws the ball up and whacks it hard, sending it flying over the pitcher's mound and straight toward second base.

She turns to me, her hand dropping low so the bat hits to the ground. "You've been holding out on me."

"I have many skills," I say, rubbing my hands together and giving her my evil genius grin.

"So I've heard," she blurts and quickly covers her mouth in embarrassment. So freaking cute.

"All right, don't hurt yourself there, slugger. Do it again."

I walk to her and make her go through the drill again and again until she gets the hang of it. I think she really got it by the third try, but I kept going, each time taking liberties with where I held her, touched her, and grazed her _accidentally_.

It was unbelievably awesome to have that freedom but achingly hard to keep myself restrained. There's so much I want to do with her. I just have to catch her first.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, reviewing, tweeting, and voting at TLS. You guys make me smile constantly. I hope I can do the same for you through this story. **


	10. Chapter 10 Dilute

**Playlist: Jasey Rae by All Time Low**

**Word Prompt****: Dilute**

**Chapter 10**

When Bella was seven, Renee was in town for a solid month for some course she was taking so she could get a promotion. While she was here, she bought Bella lots of dresses and shoes with little heels on them and loads of straps. Bella would come over and sit on the couch, scowl on her face, and force me to play Life because her mother didn't want her getting dirty in her nice, new outfits.

It went like that the whole time Renee was here, and when she left, the dresses disappeared. I never saw her wear them in public again.

But I did see her wear one in private once.

My family was settled in the van and ready for a camping trip. Garrett realized last minute he failed to get the sleeping bags from the shed, which was his only job. So, of course, he forced me out of the car to do it.

I worked the gate lock with my dad's keys and got into the shed, pulling the bags out one by one. It was a slow process; I was seven.

As I gathered them, I heard Bella's back door open and close, and then she started humming some TV theme songs.

I propped myself up on the bench and got on tiptoe to peer over the fence at my best friend. There she was in a pink fluffy dress, twirling from side to side, singing and smiling. Really enjoying herself.

At the time my seven-year-old self was disappointed in her. She was tough like me. She got dirty and played ball and wasn't afraid to burp in front of boys. She was awesome, and the image of her spinning around like a ballerina made me question our friendship.

After spying for a bit, my dad came into the backyard to chastise me for taking too long. When he saw what I was doing, he simply smiled and whispered in my ear, "She's very pretty, isn't she?" I nodded, and he added, "I won't tell anyone."

He handed me two sleeping bags, grabbed the rest, and we left for our trip. We had a good time—we always did when it was just our family—but I don't remember specifics because all I focused on was the fact that Bella Swan was a girl, and she liked it.

That simple fact is rearing its head again, and it isn't necessarily a bad thing since I like girls—well, one girl—but it is having an effect on the way that we choose to spend our afternoons together. Like today.

I sit on a pink poof staring at deep red velvet curtains, listening to Katy Perry blast through a piss poor speaker system, waiting for Bella to appear. "Remind me again how I got stuck here," I moan.

"I told you. I asked Charlotte, and Jane started hopping around and squealing. I turned around and walked away. I couldn't go with them. They were too excited. It was creepy."

"Jane is a little creepy," I say.

"She is," Bella admits easily. I love her honesty and her trust in me not to go telling Jane or Charlotte what we said.

Bella slips halfway through the curtain before glaring, turning back around, and covering herself in the heavy drapery.

"Wait, come on. Let me at least look."

"It's hideous, okay?" she says, dropping the curtain and putting her hands on her hips.

The thing is purple for starters and has these weird bows and some glittery crap on it. She's right, so I laugh.

"Stop it, Edward. I'm never taking you shopping again."

"You said it was hideous. What? I'm not allowed to agree?"

"If I had a baseball right now I'd throw it at your head."

"Good, then I could be unconscious and sleep through this torture." I slump on the pink poof and drape my head over the backside. A sales clerk waves and smiles at me from upside down.

"Okay, I'm done. Let's just go." She heads back into the dressing room and keeps talking while changing. "I wish we could just go in jeans and a t-shirt. Why do we have to get all stupid looking?"

"You know what? You should just not go."

"Nice try."

"It was worth a shot," I say with a smirk. This is fun.

She comes out of the room, six unwanted dresses in hand, and scowls. "Why do they all have to be so ugly? Why can't there be a girl-jocks-that-like-plain-dresses store?"

"I don't know."

"Seriously," she whines, plopping on the seat next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Why do I have to get dressed up?"

"Because that's the rules. And you're supposed to be happy about prom. Girls are supposed to like this stuff."

"Well, I don't."

The image of Bella twirling in her backyard with a bucktooth grin floods my mind, and I can't let her give up. I know she can be that same girl again if she finds something she likes.

"One more store. Come on," I say, pulling her up and taking her dresses.

I hand them to the attendant, and she smiles brightly. "How'd these work out for your girlfriend?"

"Not good. You don't have anything that matches her beauty."

"Aw," the clerk coos, but Bella slaps my arm.

"What?"

"That was cheesy."

"I wanted to see what it was like," I say as we exit the store and head down the walkway of the mall.

"What what was like?"

"Being your boyfriend."

"Oh," she says, but I can't read the expression on her face. I'm not sure if she's upset or amused or what.

We pass a small shop full of mirrors and lots of black and silver with blaring techno music. I stop when we get to the end of the window display and point at a long gown. Simple, plain, Bella.

"I don't hate it." She shrugs, so I grab her hand and pull her inside. We find the dress in her size, and she tries it on.

She trips over her shoe as she exits the dressing room, and I chuckle but shut up when she straightens out. Because . . . wow.

The dress looks great on her. It has no sleeves or straps and scrunches at the top and waist, making her look tiny there before flowing out and down, highlighting her long legs.

"Well?" she asks and turns for me.

There's a slit. A high one, and dammit if Garrett's words about her sex legs don't come unbidden to my mind with a whole lot of lewd images of me and Bella and her amazing legs in all kinds of positions.

"Uh . . ." is all I manage.

"How we doing here? Oh my, how pretty do you look? Is this for prom? I love prom. I went to three back in the day," the blonde sales lady with caked-on makeup says.

"I'm not sure about the color," Bella says, standing in front of three mirrors and pressing the fabric flat to her stomach. "It's a bit drab, this black. What do you think?" she asks, turning for my opinion.

"I . . ." _am an idiot._

"Oh, no, no, no. The lighting in here is just—I keep telling the manager we need to fix it. Not black, blue. A dark blue. A deep blue. A beautiful blue. And with your complexion and hair and eyes, this will look just . . ." She kisses her fingers and throws them in the air.

Bella smiles and peers at her feet. "I don't know. I might be too tall? I can't imagine flats would look good with this dress; I'd have to wear heels, and my date's not—"

"Oh, here, here, here. What size?" she asks, pointing to Bella's feet, and Bella tells her. She runs away for a second and returns with heels. "Okay, let's see. Come on," she says, motioning for me. "Mustn't keep her waiting," she sing-songs.

Bella smiles softly and shrinks into herself, like she's hiding, shy.

I go to her and stand beside her while the sales clerk slips the shoes on Bella's feet. First one then the other, and then we're the perfect height for each other, gazing into each other's eyes. Green into brown.

The clerk places Bella's hand in my own, and she turns us toward the mirror. "Ooh, perfect. Not too tall at all. And look at this couple. I mean, could you dilute some of this hotness and share it with the world? Like please. Everyone will be jealous."

"Just of her," I say, peeking at Bella in the reflection.

"Don't kid yourself, buddy. You're gorgeous, and I'm married and still allowed to say that," she says, lifting her left hand to show us her ring. "Okay, I'll leave you to it."

Bella fidgets, smoothing her hair out and tugging at the dress, all while keeping hold of my hand. I turn to face her and just stare. I can't help it. She looks elegant and stunning, and the dress showcases her curves without being slutty.

"What do you think?" Bella says to the mirror.

"I think you're beautiful," I say, and she turns to me fully, her eyes slowly making their way toward my own.

"Do you think I should get it?"

"I think . . . yeah, I think you should."

"Okay. Thank you for doing this with me."

"You're welcome." I lift her hand and kiss it. I wait for her to say something about me being cheesy again, but she doesn't.

Her cheeks are pink, and she's smiling. She leans in and kisses my cheek, warming me up with her soft touch. "I'll be just a second," she says before slipping into the dressing room one final time.

**-NSID-**

While Bella stows her dress, I peek around her fridge, looking for snacks. My house rarely has food anymore. Dad doesn't know what to buy snacks wise, and I always forget to ask him for money to pick stuff up. We're terrible roommates.

There's some apples in the crisper, but I'm not in an apple mood. I open the freezer and pout. The frozen grapes are all gone.

"Find anything good?" Bella asks, sitting at the island and sorting through mail.

"No, where's the grapes? I was so in the mood."

"Gone. You ate them all."

"Didn't you just go shopping?"

"Yeah, but I'm trying something out, so I didn't get any."

"Oh, please don't tell me you're on some diet for prom."

She throws an advertisement at my head and chuckles. "No, loser, I'm making a concerted effort not to do things I don't want to do anymore."

"And you have strong feelings about not buying grapes?"

"No, I have strong feelings about doing things just because you expect them."

"And I expect grapes in your freezer?" I set my features in disbelief.

"Um, hello? Was your head in my freezer two seconds ago scrounging for grapes?"

"Yeah, but you've been getting them forever. Since like, I don't know, just forever."

"Why do you think I buy grapes and freeze them, Edward?"

"Because they're the most delicious snack known to human kind."

"I buy them because you like them."

"And, so . . ."

"You're not listening." She's exasperated but in a silly way, like she wishes she could change the subject to shut me up. I'm really trying to understand, though, so I hope she doesn't.

"Yeah, I don't get it," I say, sitting beside her.

"Okay, look, I . . . this is embarrassing. Okay, um, I do a lot of things for you. Just for you."

"Uh huh. And this is bad because . . ."

"Because when I do that I'm not thinking about myself."

"Not that I don't want you to think about yourself, because I do want that, but maybe you could give me a non-grape related example."

She puts her hands on my thighs, and I glance at them with a big smile on my face. I'm loving this nonchalant contact.

"I don't like rocky road ice cream," she confesses.

"Wait, wh-what? You always get rocky road. Your dad gets boring vanilla; you get rocky road."

"Because I'm only allowed one choice, and for as long as I can remember I've been forfeiting what I want for you."

"Really?" I say quietly, the realization startling and sad and upsetting all at once. Why would she give up what she wants for me? It's so sweet but not what I want her to do. I want her to do what makes her happy.

"Really."

"What do you want to get instead?"

"You want to see?"

"Sure."

Bella hops down, prods and pushes my shoulders, nudging me closer to the freezer. She grabs a spoon and opens the door, pulling out a carton of mint chocolate chip.

"Ugh, Bella, mint is for gum."

"And it gives you a fresh, tasty mouth, unlike another ice cream which fills your teeth with globs of nuts that get stuck in there." She pops the top of the carton and takes a heaping spoonful, smiling around the utensil. She moans her approval. I like where this is going.

"All right, gimme."

She feeds me ice cream, and I swallow even though I don't care for it. Bella looks elated that I'm eating her ice cream, so I push her a little. "You're right: a fresh and tasty mouth. You know what those are good for, right?"

"You're sort of relentless," she says, taking another bite.

"Well, I don't have a choice here. I'm just waiting for the say so to get more kissing in."

"Mmm." She nods, peering into the carton swirling the spoon around the edge. "Good luck with that."

"You got a ballpark for me yet?" I ask, taking her spoon and licking it before dipping it back into the dessert.

"A kissing ballpark?"

I nod, and she giggles.

"What?" I ask.

"We are such baseball nerds."

"Hey, at least we're communicating. My parents can't even do that."

She looks thoughtful and takes the spoon when I offer it up, but she still doesn't say anything.

"I'm waiting," I say.

"Dodder day-dee-umm," she says, mouth full.

"What was that? I may have misheard you. Did you say Dodger? Because I know that's pretty low on your list, meaning you're less mad and I'm getting closer, right?"

Her eyes playfully admit my accusation is true. I lean in and smack cold wet kisses to her neck while she squeals in protest.

Half a carton and no frozen grapes later, we sit on her living room floor while Charlie cooks dinner.

He's got an old radio on and is listening to a game, so he's paying us no attention.

Bella's purple socked feet are in my lap, and I'm rubbing them, something I learned from Katie when she was pregnant. She always forced me to rub them anytime I was around. It was a brother's duty, she'd told me. I'm not sure about that, but I don't mind rubbing Bella's feet. They're cute and small and not swollen.

Bella's wearing my E hat and has tucked all of her hair underneath it. She's flipping through the TV guide, dog earring pages. I don't know why; she only watches romantic comedies, old sitcoms, and sports with her dad.

"Did it feel weird for you when both those women assumed we were going out?" she asks, peering over the top of the magazine.

"No, I liked it." I run a knuckle down the length of her foot, and she wiggles her toes.

"Why?"

"It felt normal. Right."

"Hmm."

"Why?"

"It felt right to me, too," she says.

We exchange a smile, and I slide closer to her so her thighs are in my lap, forgetting the foot rub. "You got another ballpark for me?"

"No." She chuckles. "But what you said about wanting to see what it's like . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Well, that's what I was doing, too. At Katie's? For dinner?" I nod in understanding, and she continues. "I wanted to see what it was like to be Edward's girlfriend, to see how his family would act."

"And?"

"It was great. Except for you. But you're different now somehow."

"I'm . . . thanks, I think." I smile cheerfully, giving myself the benefit of the doubt because I _am_ different. I'm more aware or something.

"No, really, in a good way. Different good."

"Well, good. Know what I think is good?"

"What?" she asks, eyes curious.

"That hot dress I picked out. I think you should send Jake a pic of yourself in it so he'll die of a heart attack and can't go." I say it all with such enthusiasm.

She shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed with me. At least, I think she's pretending.

"You want to go with me, I know," I say.

"Never said I didn't," she says and covers her face with the magazine.

"I heard that."

"I didn't say anything . . ."

I tickle her sides, and she shrieks, high and loud.

"Hey!" Charlie yells and looks pointedly at me. "Where's the cumin?" he asks sternly, but I know he means _get your damn hands off my daughter_.

"Cabinet next to the fridge. Middle shelf," Bella answers.

He turns to get the cumin, and I gaze at Bella. We both stare without blinking. I like this game. I was always good at it. And I could stare at Bella all day.

"Why didn't you ask me?" The words are quiet but solid. I think she really wants to know.

"I'm . . . I'm really sorry. I didn't even think about it."

"No, it's okay. You're dealing with your family, and we were weird at the time. I get it. I'll have fun with Jake. He's a great friend, but I would've loved to have gone with you."

"Maybe we'll go to our first college dance together." _Please go to the U with me, please._

"Maybe. Do they even have those? College dances?" She seems genuinely curious. That's a good sign. A great sign. It means she's thinking about it. And us at college together.

"I don't know," I say. "I'm just hopeful. I'm hopeful about a lot of things."

"Me, too," she says, and her smile goes straight to my heart.

**A/N: Never Said I Didn't made the Fab Five on The Lemonade Stand thanks to you. You're awesome. Thanks for your support!**

**Special thanks to MsJaxTeller for some playlist help.**

**I love my prereaders. They're mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.**


	11. Chapter 11 Cold Drink

**Playlist: Drive my Soul by Lights**

**Dialogue Flex****: "I sure could use a cold drink right about now," he said.**

**Chapter 11**

I wake up late Saturday morning to Dad's music blaring in the hallway. I peek out as he passes by, whistling with a pile of laundry in his hands. "Morning! You ready to clean?"

"What?" I ask groggily, scratching my stomach.

"I have a plan," he says, dropping the laundry into a basket and putting his hands on my shoulders. "But it starts with cleaning. You get to do the bathrooms."

"I get to do the bathrooms? Since when? I've never scrubbed a toilet."

"Well, it's your lucky day!" Dad opens the bathroom door, which is directly across from me, and swings his hand inside like an infomercial host. He's in a good mood. Weird.

"Great. This better be a good plan."

"It's the best. We're gonna have Sunday dinners a la Gran Swan! Your old man's sharp." He taps his temple, picks up the basket, and heads to the laundry room.

When Gran Swan was still alive and living with Charlie and Bella, she invited us over every Sunday for dinner. We all had to be present unless we were bleeding to death. No phones, no computers, no TV, no nonsense. Just food, family, and conversation. It could work, maybe. If Dad could get Mom to come. She doesn't always accept his calls.

A while later, I'm stuck outside weed whacking while my fourteen-year-old neighbor, Rosalie—who has the hots for me—watches on the sidelines. Dad and I took one look at all the cleaning products and decided to pay her to scrub our bathrooms. They look great, but now she won't leave.

The worst part is that it's eight billion degrees outside, and I desperately want to lose my shirt. If I do that then I know she'll never go away.

"Edward!" Bella calls above the roar of the weed whacker.

I turn it off and holler back.

"What are you doing? Since when do you weed whack?" she says, laughing, peeking over the fence.

"Carlisle wants everything perfect when Esme comes," Rosalie says, standing up, trying to look intimidating. She can't scare Bella. Please.

"Hey, Rosie," Bella says.

Rosalie scowls. She's been trying to get us to call her by her full name since she was ten. I can't do it. I used to babysit her from time to time. It's weird.

"New plan," Dad yells, jogging into the backyard. "Vegetable garden."

"Where?" I ask, scanning the area. We've got some rock, some grass, and some trees.

"We'll have to haul that out of here." He points to the rockbed. "You've got friends on that team of yours. Why don't you call them?"

"I'll help," Bella says, hopping the fence, and Rosalie pipes in with the same response.

An hour later, some of the guys are in the backyard, helping Bella, Rosalie, and me shovel rock out of the way.

Bella takes a water break, and Marcus scoots closer to me, whispering, "What's going on with Bella?"

I peer over my shoulder to see her sitting on my back porch, drinking. "What do you mean?"

"When did she get . . ." He cups imaginary breasts, and I smack his hands down.

"Dude, no," I say firmly.

"Has she always been so . . ."

"What are you talking about?" Peter whisper-yells from across the way then joins us, leaving only two teammates with Rosalie.

"Nothing," I mutter.

"Bella got hot, man. Like today," Marcus announces.

"Seriously," Peter says. "I thought I was imagining things, but that tight-ass t-shirt is clinging to her. It's like you can see everything." He whistles low.

"It's Bella," I say, shrugging.

Marcus slaps me upside the head. "Don't think I haven't noticed you lately. You flirt like an idiot. I'm surprised Jake hasn't leveled you yet."

"This week when he said he was thirsty at lunch," Peter says, hitting my shoulder to indicate he's talking about me, "and Bella just handed over her drink like it was involuntary, I thought Jake was going to rip Edward a new one."

"That'd be awesome. We haven't had a fight at school since the winter dance when Sam was caught kissing Emily in the hallway. Leah laid him out flat." Marcus slams his shovel into the dirt, anchoring it.

"Damn, that was so funny. And his eye . . ." Peter breaks into snickers, and Marcus joins him.

"What are you laughing about?" Bella asks behind us.

"Nothing. Just stuff," Marcus says, smile wide. His eyes dart to her breasts, and he blurts, "What size is your shirt?"

I bonk his shin with my shovel, and he hollers at me. "I gotta be in good shape for ball; don't hit me, prick."

Peter ignores us. "Hey, Bella, if Jake and Edward got in a fight who would win?"

"That depends. Does Edward have his bat?"

"Well, he's got a bat for you," Marcus says, flinching when I jerk the shovel his way again.

"Yeah, it's hard wood," Peter says, and they become hysterical. My friends are stupid.

"Oh, look, Rosie needs help," I say, pointing far away from where I am with Bella.

They both leave, slapping each other's backs in congratulations.

"Boys are gross, but really, what was that about?" she asks, laughing.

"It seems, I'm not the only one that's noticed you all of a sudden," I admit.

"Hmm," Bella says, amused.

"Hmm. That's all you have to say? They were talking about your . . ." I swirl my index finger in mid-air indicating her boobs, which do appear much perkier than normal. It's then that it hits me. She's not in a sports bra. Suddenly, I'm thinking about what Bella's boobs would look like if she wore one of those bras I saw in her drawer. Better yet, what would they look like if she played catch like that? Damn. Bella in jeans and a _bra_ bra throwing a wild pitch. I could live off that image. It's, like, life sustaining. If I could bottle it up and—

"Well, did you tell them to shut the hell up?" she asks, eyes narrowed. Now she's pissed and sweaty, and her t-shirt is just begging me to lift it up and over her head. There's something wrong with me if clothes are talking to me. Is this heat stroke? Am I dying? "Did you?" she asks again, hands on her hips.

"Ye-yeah, I told them."

"I have great aim, you know," she yells at them. "I could smash both your _bats_ with one throw."

I'm sure they have some great come back, but we don't hear it. Instead, we hear, "Yo, you owe me pizza, Cullen." Emmett waltzes out my kitchen door, staring at his phone.

"I already ordered," I say, wiping my brow and getting back to work. Bella's back by my side, and I hope I don't spend the whole time trying to figure out which bra she's wearing.

"All right. Let's do it." Emmett pockets his phone and loses his shirt. Rosalie lets out an _eep_ sound. "Who's this?" Emmett asks, pointing to Rosalie.

Bella starts to introduce them, but Rosalie takes over, walking closer. "Rosalie. I live next door. I've been here all day helping. Because, yeah. Edward needed help."

"Edward needs a lot of help." Emmett nods to Bella, and she glares at him. "S'true," he says with a shrug, and Rosalie laughs this light trilling laugh.

Bella and I exchange a look but then get back to work.

We all sweat and shovel until the food arrives. We eat, and the guys take off shortly after that, except for Emmett. He hangs back a bit, guzzling down water and staring at my neighbor too closely. He asks Rosalie if she has a phone. She nods, but he hesitates. "How old are you?" he asks.

She's confident, throwing her shoulders back, saying, "Fourteen."

He takes her phone from her and inputs his digits. "Call me in four years," he says, before hopping in his truck and disappearing for the day.

Rosalie skips home, and Bella and I laugh our asses off.

At the end of the project I've accomplished three things. One, I've created a garden space where my dad will most likely kill some poor, unsuspecting plants. Two, I've gotten Rosalie off my back. And three, I have a certifiable fantasy of Bella to add to my classics. It includes a tight white t-shirt, bottle of water, and a mystery bra. And I can't wait to use it tonight.

**-NSID-**

After a full week of practices, games, following Bella around like a love sick puppy—and loving every minute of it, minus the occasional Jake part—and trying my best to convince my siblings to come to dinner, I'm exhausted. But totally ready to enjoy our Sunday dinner.

It took Dad until Wednesday to get Mom to agree. But really, I think Garrett was the key. I convinced him to come home for the weekend. He griped about the long drive, but I reminded him about when he used to visit home from the U every weekend to see his girlfriend, Lauren, but not Mom or Dad. Sure, it's blackmail, but it's only an hour drive. And I haven't seen him in a while. It should be fun. And Katie was in when I said she didn't have to bring anything.

Dad's in the kitchen stirring this and that while I set the table. Katie sits on the couch flipping through magazines while Caleb meanders throughout the house, playing his xylophone and rocking out to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

Garrett's been here since I got home from school Friday, but he's hiding out in his old room now.

The front door opens, and Dad power walks out of the kitchen only to be disappointed. It's just Greg.

No one even says hello, not even his wife. We are a pathetic family. Although, when Caleb rounds the corner he spots his dad and runs to him, slamming into his legs. "There's my big boy!" Greg says, picking him up and squeezing him tight. "How was your day, buddy?"

"Good," Caleb says, smiling wide, looking just like his dad.

"I knew you'd have a great day!" he says to his son, matching his enthusiasm. Greg's one of those people that's generally happy and never complains. I think that trait is what makes him work with my constantly complaining sister. That and he stays out of the drama. I want to be more like him.

I look up from my task and smile. "Hey, Greg."

"Hey. Mom here yet?" he asks.

"No, she's coming from work," Katie says from the couch, still flipping through the magazine.

The door opens with a soft click, and in walks Mom. She sets her keys on the side table and lifts her sunglasses onto her head. "It's smells fabulous in here."

Dad sticks his head out of the kitchen, a big goofy grin plastered on his face. "Hi!" he says brightly.

"Hi," she responds. "What can I do to help?"

"Um, nothing. We'll eat in a few," he says, folding his oven-mitted hands across his chest. It looks stupid, but I smile anyway because my parents are both home. Life is good.

"We gonna eat yet? I'm starving," Garrett says, making an appearance.

"Go back to your room, barf face," Katie says, finding her way to the table. "No one wants you here."

"Shut up, Frizzy Fro."

Katie got Dad's blond hair, but we all inherited Mom's curls. Katie took some time before she learned how to tame them. For a while it seemed like it was Garrett's goal to make her cry about her hair on a daily basis. Now it doesn't work so much, but she does smooth her hand over her hair self consciously.

She gets up and settles in Garrett's chair at the table defiantly. Greg kisses her and takes a seat beside her with Caleb on his lap. The rest of us join them, sitting in our seats.

**-NSID-**

"So I'd like to do this regularly, if we could," Dad says.

"Every week?" Garrett grumbles.

"You don't live that far," Dad points out.

"It's far. Gas is expensive."

"I'll pay for your gas," Dad barks. "I thought it would be something nice we could do as a family. Together. And as the garden grows we can harvest what we have and use that as part of the meal. It'll be fun."

"Yeah, Garrett, it'll be fun. You could bring your girlfriend. What was her name again? Candy?" Katie pops a green bean in her mouth, laughing.

"You're so immature.

"You're immature.

"Fine, I'll bring a girlfriend. You'll love her," Garrett says.

"Good, and Edward's girlfriend can come next time, too," Katie says. "And all of her body parts are real."

"Her parts are real, but Sex Legs is not a real girlfriend," Garrett says.

Katie laughs like he's an imbecile, but she scowls when she catches the guilty look on my face.

"What'd you do, Edward?" Katie asks, upset.

"We were never really going out," I admit.

"You were going out with Bella?" Dad asks, and Mom sighs. Cullen men are clueless 'round these parts.

"It doesn't matter. But how's Bella? I was sad I couldn't be at our dinner." Mom eats a delicate bite of apricot glazed chicken.

"She's good," I say.

"You catch her yet?" She grins, knowingly.

"Trying to. It's hard to find the time. I basically had to give up my math homework like you said. But then I wasn't doing so hot in my class, so Mr. Gallagher said—"

"Edward, I was exaggerating. I just meant to make her a priority."

"I did."

"Yes, but you still have to keep your grades up."

"I am. Mostly. Seriously, don't worry about it, Mom."

"I worry about it. All of it. I worry about all of you." She runs her eyes over ours at the table until she settles on Dad. "I worry about you, too. So how are you doing, Carlisle?"

We sit in silence, waiting for Dad to speak. Everyone's staring except for Caleb, who's trying to get into his mom's shirt.

Dad takes a sip of his drink and sets his glass down with a loud exhale. "I'm miserable. Absolutely miserable. And every day you're not here, I wonder why in the hell I'm not chasing you around town begging you to come home. To come home to me." Dad rubs his forehead with two fingers as he speaks. "I miss you, Esme. More than you can possibly imagine. I want you to move back home."

"Carlisle, I can't. I signed a six month lease, and I . . ."

"I'll pay for it. I'll do anything. Please." His hands grip the table cloth, his plate moving with the fabric.

"I can't. Not not ever. Just not right now," she says softly

"Will you stay tonight? Just one night."

Mom twists her napkin in her hands and chews on her lips nervously, while staring at Dad long and hard.

"I love you. Please say yes," he begs.

Tears fall down her cheeks, and she whispers, "Yes."

"Ew, they're going to have sex tonight," Garrett mutters.

"Gross," Katie concurs.

Greg focuses his attention on Caleb, ignoring the rest of us.

"I sure could use a cold drink right about now," Garrett says.

We head into the kitchen, giving my parents some privacy. I would like some alcohol as well, but I'm too young and while Garrett would hand over a beer, Katie would tell Mom. I'd be grounded and forced to clean the grout with a toothbrush. No thanks. Instead of drinking, I sit in the kitchen acting as Caleb's jungle gym while my parents attempt to fall back in love over their Sunday dinner.


	12. Chapter 12 Speedy

**Playlist: ****Save My Heart by Jason Reeves**

**Word Prompt****: Speedy**

**Plot Generator—Idea Completion****: Head in the clouds.**

**Chapter 12**

After Katie and Greg leave, I start right in on my math homework, trying to make up old assignments. Garrett's too drunk to drive, so he'll leave first thing in the morning. He's got to be at work by nine and it's a long drive, but he should be fine.

I lie on my bed, working through a problem when an ice cold something or other smacks against my calf. I kick it away.

"What are you doing, Oops? I'm bored," Garrett announces, sitting atop my notebook. Nice. He slurps his beer.

"Homework."

"I thought you were supposed to be chasing Sex Legs around."

"I am, but Mom thinks I have to learn this stuff, too. Do I?"

"Yep, all engineers gotta get through loads of math. That's still what you want to do, right?"

"Yeah." I close my textbook.

"Good. You don't want to end up like Dad—a slave to his job."

"No kidding."

"And you want to be just like your big brother, don't ya?" He says it in a baby voice and ruffles my hair. Such a dork.

"Not really," I say, and he jumps on me, pinning my elbows behind my back. Dammit, I filled out a little this year, but he's still got so much muscle mass on me.

"You do. Say it." He's dangerously close to my ear. I'm terrified he'll spit.

"Yes, I want to be just like you. There, okay?"

"Better," he says, getting to his knees and pulling my picture of Bella off my shelf. "She is so hot. Like really. You do her yet?"

"No."

"Loser," he says, laughing. "You gotta get on that speedy fast before someone else does."

"It's not that I don't want to. Things just haven't been right. I mean, we haven't even started anything yet. Not officially."

"Why not?"

"It's complicated."

"It's not complicated. You tell her how you feel?"

"Yeah."

"You tell her she's pretty and you want her and whatever?"

"Yeah."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know." I don't, and I do. It's confusing.

"Did you ask her out?"

"No."

Garrett shakes his head. "You're a tool. You care about her, you think she's hot, you chase her around the damn ball field, but you haven't even asked her to be your girlfriend? That's just balls out stupid."

"Shut up!" is all I can think to say, because dammit! He's right. I haven't even asked her out. What is wrong with me? First, I didn't ask her to prom, and now this. I've got to get on this.

Garrett walks my room, beer in hand, rifling through my stuff. "Mom and Dad'll make it."

"You think?" I ask, flopping onto my back.

"They do this every ten years or so. Mom gets sick of not being appreciated, Dad blames his job, she talks about priorities, and he schlumps around like a loser. They always figure it out."

"She's never moved before, though."

"True, and you are older. Maybe she was just waiting for us to grow up."

"Maybe she's waiting for Dad to grow up."

"Touché, little bro. Maybe you're not as dumb and slow as I thought you were."

I ignore the last jab. "I think he's getting it."

"It's about time. You'd think with how old he is and how long he's been married he'd have picked it up at a faster pace, but no."

"Well, what about you? You getting married anytime soon?"

"Pssh. That ship sailed a long time ago."

"You're not even thirty, Garrett."

"Yeah, but all the good ones are taken."

"Like who?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Ah, there is a who. Who is she?"

"It doesn't matter. She's gone. I messed up too many times. Like Dad, I guess, only my girl didn't have the patience of a saint."

"Like Mom."

"Yeah," he says through a thick laugh.

"Why are relationships so hard?"

"Because girls are in charge of them." He leaves me with a punch to the thigh and slams my door shut.

**-NSID-**

In the morning I'm greeted by a giggling Mom and a groping-her Dad in the kitchen. I handle that long enough to get some cereal and take it to my room. I'm glad they're talking and doing whatever else it is they're doing, but just no.

"They're disgusting; it reminds me of my childhood," Garrett says in his work clothes, drinking coffee in my doorway. I gather my stuff, getting ready for school. "Well, I'm out. Don't miss me too much."

"That's not a problem," I say without looking up.

"Whatever." Garrett enters my room, leans up against the window pane and announces, "You can see right into Sex Legs's room from here. Lucky you. All I see from my apartment is a dumpster."

I peek out my window beside him. There's Bella; it's no big deal. She's adamant about closing her blinds when she needs to. There are no free shows, that's for sure. Right now, she's doing the same as me, gathering stuff for her backpack. She has something in her hand.

My phone moos, forcing me to look away. It's Bella.

_Pick me up?_ _–B_

_Be right there. –E_

"I gotta go. Bella wants me," I say smugly and grab my keys.

"Go get her, Edward. And be better than us," he says, motioning toward the kitchen where Dad is.

I nod and head to Bella's, full of faith that everything will be all right eventually.

**-NSID-**

My head's in the clouds all week as Bella and I make loads of progress. Her guard's down, and we're just us again. It's so simple and nice. It's also nice that she's spending less time with Jake.

Prom is this weekend. The girls are excited, including Bella who's made it a point to hang out more with Charlotte and Jane, even though they're too elated (and creepy) for her tastes. Apparently, they're getting together the night of for some girl bonding where they put their hair in curlers, wear lingerie, and have tickle fights. But that could just be my imagination.

I decide after prom I'm going to try to make things official by asking Bella out. I figure it would be too weird for everyone involved if Jake took my girlfriend to prom. I could ask Bella to back out of it, but it's all set. She has her dress (that I picked out) and everything.

Saturday night during dinner, Dad's suspiciously giddy. He keeps looking at his phone and giggling. I can't be around all this happiness when Bella's at prom with some other dude she likes. So after the fourth time, I snap. "What is so funny?"

Dad clears his throat and closes his phone. "Um, nothing. Your mom and I were having a conversation."

"And you can't wait until after dinner? Can't we make the Sunday dinner rule about phones at the table a constant? That would be great, thanks."

"Are you okay, Edward?"

"Fine," I say.

"You can talk to me."

"Right," I say sarcastically, knowing I'm being rude but also satisfied I have someone to take my anger out on.

"Is this about Bella?"

"No!"

He drops his fork, finishes off his drink, and folds his hands in front of him. He stares, and he won't look away.

"Today's prom," I tell him.

He blinks.

"Bella went, and I didn't. That's all."

"But you like her?" he asks.

"It's more than that."

"Well, someone really wise once said to me, 'then do something about it.'"

He's so right, but I'm not going to ruin her prom. I've ruined everything else. So I sit with my dad and convince myself that my parents know nothing about sexting.

We finish our meal and watch the end of a game together while Dad glances at his phone occasionally. It's not too late and I'm still pretty irritated, so I decide to blow off some steam at the batting cages. It's either that or eat mint chocolate chip ice cream and watch Nick at Nite. And that's just wrong.

On the drive there, my phone chimes. I pick it up, glancing at the screen.

_Renee sent this to me. Focus on the pretty girl. I love you, honey._ Mom.

I click the link, take a turn, and check out the photo quickly. Bella's all done up, ready for prom, hanging on Jake's arm.

I turn off my radio to be alone with my thoughts. I look one last time as I pull into the parking lot and nearly run over the cement block since I'm not paying attention. I need to put my phone in the backseat when I drive.

I pay the cashier and set up. I grip my bat, strong and tight, before swinging away, making a dent in my baseballs.

This ball's Jake.

Crack!

Garrett and his mostly stupid advice.

Crack!

My dad and his inability to let go of things that don't matter.

Crack!

And me, who can't seem to do the right thing at the right time. Why didn't I ask her to prom?

Crack!  
Crack!  
Crack!

"Woo! You're on a roll!"

I spin on the spot, and a ball whirs past me. Bella's fingers curl around the chain link fence. Through it, I see the girl I grew up with, who gives me her lemons at restaurants, and knows that I like iced tea in my mom's flower cup. Only she's not the same girl. She's a woman.

I thought she looked beautiful in her dress at the mall, but it's nothing compared to this. Her hair's curly—half up, half down—and her eyes have something shiny on them that make them look amazing. I follow the slit of her dress and spy sparkly heels. I knew she'd find that twirling seven-year-old. A huge smile spreads over my face.

"You're gorgeous!" I blurt. As far as blurting goes, which I do often, it's not a bad blurt.

She laughs and pushes the gate open, hitting the button to stop the pitching machine.

"Can I hit?" she asks, reaching for my bat.

"In that?"

"It's not like the non-sleeves will hinder my movement."

"All right." I hand it over, but she doesn't take it. She grips my shoulder and leans down, pulling her heels off, giving me a great view down her dress.

She takes the bat and sets herself up. "Hit it, will ya?" She points to the button.

I hand her my helmet, and she laughs. "I can't put that thing on; it'll ruin my hair."

"Are you going back to the dance?"

"No."

"Then who're you trying to impress?" I ask, looking around. "We're the last two people here besides the manager."

"Fine," she says.

I place it on her head, then push start.

I watch in awe as she smacks the hell out of a few pitches while wearing a prom dress and my helmet. There's no mistaking it. I love her. I'm _in love_ with her. I have to tell her soon.

The machine stops, and she hands me my helmet, satisfied with herself. "That's how you do it, Cullen."

"I could take a lesson or two from you."

"Or two?"

"Maybe more."

"I'll hold you to that."

"What are you gonna teach me first?"

"I dunno. Here." She gives me a coy grin and holds the bat out to me but pulls it away when I reach for it. How she makes that stupid game sexy, I'll never know, but she does.

We exit the cage, gather my things, load them in my car, and decide to take a walk. Bella's heels dangle from her fingertips as we head to the adjacent park. I keep stealing glances at her and smiling like a loon. She's so pretty, it's disarming.

Some teenage girls in a nearby car blast music from the stereo, and suddenly, all I want to do is dance with Bella, hold her in my arms.

"Did you have fun?" I ask. I hope she did even though I couldn't be there.

"Yeah."

"Did you dance a lot?"

"A little."

"Are you tired?

"No."

"One more dance?"

"What?" She stops and turns, catching my eyes.

"C'mon, dance with me." I tug her arm and drag her to me in a dance position, swaying to the pop ballad the girls are singing along with. It's not the stuff of romance so much as convenience and desire, but I don't care; Bella's in my arms, and she's not pulling away.

"So who won king and queen?" I ask, twirling her under my arm in the open soccer field.

"Who do you think?"

"Jasper and Alice. Of course. How long have they been together?"

"Seventh grade."

"That's a long time."

"That could've been us," Bella whispers. "She was my lab partner in science, and she had a big, secret crush. I bugged her and bugged her until we decided on a trade. I'd tell her my crush and she'd tell me hers."

"And?"

"She was the first person who knew I was falling for Edward Cullen."

I grin, proud of the fact that she's liked me for so long. It feels good to be liked, desired, especially by someone as amazing as Bella. "That was the year you got your braces off."

Bella's shocked expression makes me laugh. "I do know some things. I told you I know you. I also know that that's the year you kicked Eric in the crotch because he snapped your bra."

"He was being so gross," she says defensively.

"I know. I just wish you would've told me. I would've kicked his ass. Then again, I wish you would've told me a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that you liked me. In a more than neighborly way."

"Well, I'm telling you now."

"Are you?"

"I like you, neighbor." She giggles nervously, so I bring her in closer, holding her against my chest. She smells amazing. Vanilla mixed with something else, something stronger, more alluring.

There's a lull in the music and our conversation. We simply hold each other, close and intimate, in the warm air of the park. I run my hands up her arms, making her shiver. I cup her face and stroke my thumb over the apple of her cheek. Her smile is soft, like her. Her eyes open and honest. This is my Bella. Not Jake's. Not her team's. Mine.

"You got a ballpark for me yet?"

"Mmm, Chase," she whispers.

"Isn't that the last one?"

"Maybe."

I lean in but catch her eyes last minute, seeking permission. They say yes, but I decide to play with her. This is fun and the anticipation—exciting.

"How long are you gonna make me wait?" I ask, and as soon as her eyes drop, I know I've hit a line drive into my own face. She pulls away from me slowly, and her eyes harden. "No, Bella, I didn't mean . . . I wasn't talking about sex, I—"

"I know what you were talking about," she says sternly.

"I was kidding. I was—"

"You were _kidding_?" She throws her hands out wide, incredulous. "You know how long I waited for you? Do have any idea how it felt day in and day out watching you fall all over these other girls? Do you know how many times you've broken up with a girl and I thought this is it, this is my chance? Only it never happened because you never wanted me. And now that you do, you think I'll just fall into your arms in your own time, on your own conditions. Well, I don't think so." She turns and walks away.

I start walking after her across the damp field. "Bella, wait!"

But she doesn't. Her walk turns into a jog.

"I'm sorry," I yell. "I'm an idiot. I didn't think. I'm sorry. Please, Bella, please stop." I catch up to her and pull on her arm. She whirls around, eyes blazing.

"I left prom early for you. I came here tonight to tell you I was wrong to wait, that I'm ready. To tell you I made a mistake, that I didn't like Jake like I thought I did. That I wanted to be with you. But you've just confirmed what I've thought all along: you're not ready. You might never be. We can't do this. It will never work."

"It will work. Why would you think that? I want to be with you. I was going to ask you out after prom. I want to be your boyfriend."

"I don't care what you want any more." She wipes an angry tear from her cheek, and I feel like the world's biggest asshole. How did we end up here like this? Me and my stupid mouth.

Her shoulders slump, defeated, and she shifts her weight from foot to foot. "I'm tired of caring about what you want. I'm exhausted. You exhaust me, and I . . . you know why I'm not with you?"

"Yeah, because of Jake."

"Not because of Jake. It's because I don't trust you with my heart. Jake is kind and sweet. He's safe. But not safe enough, because he couldn't keep me from thinking about you. And I hate you for it. I hate you."

The words pierce hard and hurt, but it doesn't matter because she's hurting, too. I have no clue how to fix this. It was a joke. A joke made in poor taste at a poor time. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry. What can I . . . just tell me what to do."

She drops her eyes to her bare feet. They look so small in the grass, partially hidden by blue silky fabric that matches the dark sky. "You've done enough," she says and turns, throwing herself into a full sprint, running from me.


	13. Chapter 13 Write, Rite, Right

**Playlist: ****The Man Who Can't Be Moved by The Script**

**Word Prompts****: Right, write, rite**

**Chapter 13**

I'm behind her, following in my car. I dial her number. "Come on, Bella. Talk to me."

She doesn't pick up, so I end the call.

We've turned onto Fourth, and we're home. Her home, anyway. I slam my door and follow in her wake. "You have to talk to me."

"Go home, Edward." She walks up her driveway and opens the front door, attempting to close it on me, but I barge inside. Charlie gapes at us from his chair in the living room, soda in hand. I don't even care that he's watching this mess unfold.

"You left prom for me, and I blew it. I know that. I made a mistake. Talk to me."

"I don't feel like it. I'm tired. I want to go to bed."

"It's Saturday. You're going to shower, put on your boxers and tank, get your knee socks on, and watch Nick at Nite, and you know it."

"You think you know me so well?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then how could you be so stupid and say something so unbelievably insensitive to me? Do you know how much courage it took to say goodbye to Jake? To ask him to take me home early?"

"That must've been hard."

"Not as hard as this." She storms down the hallway, enters her room, and slams the door.

I growl my frustration and wrap my hands around the brim of my stupid team hat, crushing it.

"Looks like you shoulda asked her to prom to begin with," Charlie says from his chair.

"Yeah," I say and slump onto the couch.

"Rough night?" Charlie sips his drink and returns his attention to the TV like this is a normal night.

"Bella went with Jake to prom, I said something stupid, and now she hates me. Again." I throw my hands down on the couch cushions dramatically.

"Like I said, you need to fix it. And you really shoulda asked her to prom to begin with. With women, it's all about being proactive."

"I'm not a mind reader."

"No, but you've known my daughter your whole life. You telling me you can't do any better than this?" He throws his thumb over his shoulder, and we both jerk at the sound of the door opening. Bella's in her bathrobe. She glares at me, then at her dad—who shrugs—and heads into the bathroom.

"I'm not very good at this. I thought I was good with girls, but this is . . . different."

"That's because it's Bella," he says wisely.

"Yeah."

"Remember when my ma lived with us?"

"Of course; I loved Gran Swan. My dad's even instituted Sunday dinners."

"No kidding?" He glances at me with a lopsided grin. It reminds me of his mother.

I miss her.

"Nope."

"When she passed and we had that luncheon here after the funeral and Bella hid in her room and you stayed in there the whole time with her even though we had cookies and punch out here, that's when I knew for sure."

"Knew what?"

"That this would happen someday."

"What would happen? Bella'd be pissed at me?" I laugh without humor.

"No, that you'd find yourself falling for her, but Bella being pissed is all a part of the process. Besides, a girl going berserk on a guy is a rite of passage. I'm surprised it's taken this long, to be honest."

"You knew this would happen?"

Charlie swivels his head and simply gives me a blank stare like I'm an idiot, which I am. "I planted that bush, didn't I?'

"I hate that bush."

"I'm glad," he says proudly. "Best landscaping I've ever done."

"You don't have any landscaping; it's all dirt, incidental patches of grass, and Sandy's poop."

"Yeah, well. It keeps boys out of her room, so . . ."

"Sure it does," I mumble, thinking about the time Jake was in there.

Charlie catches on, and his eyes go wide. "Football players. You can't trust them."

"I interfered as much as possible. Even crashed dates."

"Well, good."

"So now what?"

"I don't know," he says, flipping through channels absently.

"You're not gonna help?"

"And have her look at me the way she just looked at you? No, thanks. I live with her. You're on your own."

"I already apologized."

"That doesn't matter."

"Gee, thanks."

"Well, it does, but they have to stew in it for a while. She's a bit like her mother that way, but she won't stay mad at you."

"How do you know?"

"Because you held her hand when her grandmother died. You ate her brussel sprouts for her when I demanded she eat them." He glares at me for that. "And you are not a quitter. I know this because when I started coaching you, you couldn't get a grounder if your life depended on it. And now look at you? Best short stop 'round these parts."

"Thanks, Coach."

"You're welcome. Now go home. I don't want to hear her yelling when she gets out of that shower and finds you on our couch."

"Okay. I'm gonna . . ." I indicate the back door, and he nods. I leave the Swan home, hopping over our shared block fence, and head inside. I can get my car later.

Dad's on the couch, reading, oblivious as always. "Night, Son."

"Night, Dad."

I brush my teeth slowly, trying to wrap my brain around tonight. It all just sucks. I change and lie in bed, twirling my phone in my hand before opening up my text window.

_Please. Let me make this right. –E _

**-NSID-**

"You should write her a letter, honey. All girls like that." Mom's been at it all dinner, trying to solve my problems for me. I'm beyond listening, though.

"Yeah," Garrett pipes in, "start with: how much of a moron am I? Let me count the ways." He snickers at his cleverness.

"I can't believe you even let her go with Jake to begin with." Katie can't stop with the redundant lectures. It grates on my nerves. I wish she'd go home. "You know if either of you had told me this was going on, I could've helped. I would've told you what to do. Bella's like a sister to me. I don't want her hurting like this. Not even from the likes of you. It's just —"

"Incest."

"Garrett, please," Mom scolds.

"She just said Bella was her sister. By definition—"

Dad clears his throat, and Garrett shuts up, thankfully.

I eat in silence and ignore them all. I don't want their advice. The whole reason I don't know anything about girls is because my family has failed to teach me properly. And they haven't even set a good example, with the exception of Katie, but even then, she complains about everything. Just tonight she was whining about Greg not pulling his weight around the house. He kissed her and told her he'd take out the trash when they get home. She muttered a "believe it when I see it" sentiment, and they're supposedly happily married?

I don't get it. I'm not sure I ever will. And if my dad is any way by which to measure my future—based on DNA—then I should just quit now.

But I am not a quitter. Just like Charlie said.

Besides, it's only been one day without any Bella contact, and my skin's crawling with anticipation to speak with her, to make amends.

After dinner I ignore the incessant chatter of my family in the living room. They're all getting along and playing board games. I excuse myself to go to bed early. All this thinking and sorrow and longing is tiring. Is this how Bella felt all these years? Wanting me but not having me? If so, she's right: it's exhausting.

**-NSID-**

Monday at lunch, I sit beside Bella, and she gets up immediately to leave. It hurts. It hurts like hell. I miss her. But at least she doesn't sit next to Jake a few tables away. I wait outside her front door after school, hoping she'll speak to me, but she never shows.

On Tuesday, I'm desperate for a hello, an I hate you, anything to know she'll speak to me again. I'll take her anger; I don't care. Anything but complete avoidance. Her refusal to acknowledge me is debilitating. Is what I did that awful? It was a joke. I wish she'd just talk to me.

I can't focus in class, I'm rude to my dad, and I let my teammates down. I'm not motivated to give baseball one hundred percent. We're pretty well ranked, but even so, I don't think we'll make it to State this year. The girls' team is doing amazing, though, thanks to Bella. I watch the end of her games when I can and cheer her on even though she ignores me when I try to congratulate her afterward.

When I don't have practice or games, I take to visiting my mom's apartment after school and watching movies until she comes home to make dinner. Dad approves since I'm with Mom, so there's no issue there. But I do take issue when he invites himself over. This is my time with Mom to be doted on, to be loved. Because no one else is doing that for me now, and I need it. I have to have it or I'll die or something.

"Well, that was fun," Dad says when we pull into our driveway after a meal at Mom's.

"Whatever."

"You didn't enjoy yourself? I love her beef stew and those rolls she makes. I really miss her cooking."

"I'm not there for her cooking," I say, irritated.

"Yeah, I know. Me neither."

"Why are you there?"

"Honestly?" he asks, a bit surprised.

"Yeah."

"I'm trying to get in on this. You kids have always had this secret relationship with your mother. I could never find my way in. Not sure why, but I'm trying."

He's right. He's opened himself up, made more time for us. He's doing his best, which is good.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asks, looking desperate for me to reach out to him.

"I don't think so," I say, shrugging and heading to my room. I can't do it, not this week.

"Your mother thinks you're in love," he calls after me. "Is it true?"

"Yeah," I admit, feeling defeated.

"Does she know? Bella, I mean?"

"I haven't said the words."

"I know I haven't set the best example of what a man should be like, but I do know one thing: if you have something to say to the woman you love, don't hesitate, don't wait for the perfect moment. Just say it and mean it. Sincerity, not the time or place, is the most important."

"Thanks, Dad." I turn into my room and tug my shirt off.

Dad's leaning on my doorjamb, looking at me. "Bella's a sweet girl. I'm proud of you for picking her."

I think on his words and dream about Bella. I tell her three different times in three different ways I love her, but none of them seem good enough. I wake up feeling discouraged, like it won't be enough. Like _I'll_ never be enough.

**-NSID-**

Thursday after history, I pass Bella in the hall. She makes eye contact with me for the first time, and I panic, ducking my head and continuing on. I can't even look her in the eye, I'm so pathetic.

I ditch my last class and pick up some ice cream—mint chocolate chip—before heading to my mom's to do homework and have dinner. When I'm settled in front of the TV halfway through my pint, my phone rings. It's Alice.

What the hell?

"Hello?" I say quietly. She's never called me in my entire life. We barely know each other. Had a few classes here and there, but she's in student government and dance, and I'm a jock. We don't really mix.

"What did you do to Bella?" she barks.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Look, I know you know who I am, and I know you know what I know. Bella told me. She told me what happened, and I can't believe you're just giving up, that you're just capable of walking away."

"I'm not walking away. I'm figuring things out. I don't know what to do, and she won't talk to me. She won't answer my phone or my texts, and she's never home."

"You live behind her. What is wrong with you? Set up a tent in her backyard if you have to. Bring her donuts and chocolate or whatever the hell she loves. And flowers. Every girl –even softball players—loves flowers, and you make this right, Edward Cullen, you hear me?"

"I want to. I'm trying to," I say, feeling beat up. Why are girls so confusing?

"She was crying, did you know? She was ready to talk to you, and you ignored her completely today. She ran into the bathroom bawling her eyes out. Luckily for you, I was there to talk to her. We're not _friends_ friends, but if things were different, I know we could be, you know?" I have no idea what this means, but she doesn't explain and barrels on, talking incessantly at a rapid speed. "She's devastated. I don't know who you think you are, but you don't even deserve her. After all this time. I mean, she's amazing. Everyone knows it. It's ridiculous she still has a thing for you to begin with. But let me tell you, you've ruined her, you hear me? Ruined her."

"I love her, okay? I love her. What the hell do you want me to do about it?" I did not mean to yell like that.

"What do I want you to do? I want you to hang up the damn phone right now and call her and tell her. Go to her house and pound down the freaking door with a battering ram and kiss her until she kisses you back or slaps the hell out of you. And I want you to do it right now!"

"Okay, geez, I just . . ."

"Right! Now! Edward! Cullen!"

Click.

The line goes dead just as my mom opens the door to her apartment.

"I have to go," I say.

"You're not staying for dinner?'

"I'm in love with Bella; I have to tell her. Alice is right."

"Who's Alice?" Mom asks, but I don't have time to answer; I have stuff to do. I try to pass up Mom, but she yanks me into a hug and squeezes me tight, familiar and comforting, and I'm strengthened by it.

"Good luck, honey."

"Thanks."

Excited and a little antsy, I hop into my car and head toward home, dialing as I go. Straight to voicemail. At a stoplight, I text her.

_It's an emergency, call me. –E _

It's a cheap trick, but I don't know what else to do.

And it works.

"Edward?" She's panicked. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

"I have to talk to you. Please, don't hang up. I need . . . there's so much to say, so much you should know, and I'm terrified of screwing it up. I'm having nightmares about it, but I have to tell you I . . ."

"What? Edward? What?" Her voice is pained, tired. I did that to her. I made her feel so raw and sad.

I pass an old lady in a Buick and pick up speed. I have to get to Bella, see her, feel her in my arms. "I'm so sorry. For making you feel like you weren't enough, like you weren't noticeable all those years." I take a deep breath and let the truth out. "Because you were, you are. And if you let me make it up to you, I'll do anything, really. Whatever you need. I'm serious about this. And if I'm too late, then I'll have to deal with that, but I need you in my life. If you want to be friends and date other guys, there's nothing I can do about that. I just want you happy, and I want you to talk to me."

"Edward, I—"

"I know I messed up so bad, and it'll take a while, but you have to forgive me, you have to—"

Honk!

I jerk my eyes upward. I'm in the intersection, and the light's red. Another honk and a crack of metal against metal. My head snaps with the noise, hitting the dashboard, and my phone flies to the floorboard.

"Edward!"

"I'm sorry," I rasp out. A warm wetness above my eyes finds its way there, making my vision blurry, but I keep talking. She has to know. "I love you, Bella. I'm in love with you."

"Edward!" she screams in the distance, my name chanted over and over . . .


	14. Chapter 14 Tepid

**Playlist: Be Alright by Justin Bieber**

**Word Prompt****: Tepid**

**Scenario****: All's fair in love and war**

**Chapter 14**

"Kid, you okay?" Someone's talking to me. There's a pounding behind my eyes; the pain worsens when I touch my head. "The ambulance is on the way. Don't move." It's a guy, I think.

I groan as I open my eyes, flashbulbs popping before me. Ouch, that hurts. "Where's my phone?"

"Your phone? I don't . . . I . . . don't worry about your phone. I'm sorry I hit you, but what were you doing in the intersection? The light was red. We're both really lucky."

"Huh?"

"You're—you know you've been in an accident, right?"

"Yeah, I wasn't paying attention, but I need my phone. It fell down there." I point.

"I already called for an ambulance." He's confused and doesn't understand I don't care about me, I need to talk to Bella.

I unlatch the seatbelt just as sirens come upon us, and I can't get to my phone because someone's moving my head around and looking into my eyes. "What's your name?"

"Edward," I grumble.

"Okay, Edward, we're gonna get you out of your car and check you out."

"Can someone please get my phone?"

"Our priority is you, Edward."

"Forget it." I reach forward and can't see with all the blood sluicing down my face, but I'm not leaving without my lifeline to Bella.

"Edward!" A man grips my arm before I can reach it. "We need to get you to the hospital."

"That's fine. Someone get my damn phone, and I'll do whatever you ask, okay?"

The guy motions to some other people, and I stay in the car, waiting to see that someone has it in their possession before letting them help me get out of the car.

I'm strapped to a gurney and people are poking and prodding me. I'm hooked up to something, too. Don't know what, even though they're telling me.

"Are you in any pain?" a girl asks, leaning over me once I'm inside the ambulance.

"My head hurts," I say, and she strokes my hair with a smile.

"I'll bet."

"The other driver's okay?"

"He's fine."

"Can I have my phone?"

I hear a moan from somewhere and a, "Not now. Maybe once you're admitted."

"You need to make a phone call?" the girl asks, placing a cold stethoscope on my chest.

"I told my best friend I was in love with her before I got hit. I don't want her to be scared, and I'm kind of anxious to hear what she has to say."

"Aw," she coos and pats my shoulder. "You're the sweetest guy we've had in here all year."

"Thanks . . ."

"Elizabeth," she says, smiling.

**-NSID-**

When I get to the ER I'm still not allowed to use my phone. Some policy about interference or something. I was half-listening since they were checking me out, cleaning my wound, and asking me questions at the same time. Honestly, I think I'm fine other than the blood pouring from my head.

My nurse, Heidi, tells me the doctor will be in shortly. But no one comes, not for a long while. Bored with no TV and no phone, all I can do is wait and think about Bella. I hope she's all right.

There's a commotion outside my curtained room. I'm not sure where it's coming from, but it becomes more and more entertaining as the conversation unfolds and voices rise.

"Miss, you cannot go back there. You are neither family, nor his wife, so unless you can—"

"I'm going to be someday. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"No, Miss, it doesn't. And by the looks of your ring-free hand and your age, I'm guessing you're not even engaged." The woman's voice is terse.

"Look, I know him. I know everything about him. Ask me a question. Ask anything and then ask him, and if it's right, send me back. I'm not some crazy psycho stalker trying to get into an ER. Who does that? Who would do that?"

"I don't know, Miss, but I'm afraid—"

"No, I'm afraid I'm going to get my bat out of the car and knock someone's head off with it if you don't buzz me in."

I _love_ her.

I smile and laugh as Bella lays into the poor receptionist.

My curtain opens, and in walks Elizabeth. "How are you doing, sweetie?" she asks.

"I feel okay. Shouldn't you be back on the road?"

"I'm heading out now."

"Oh, okay."

"Edward! Edward!" Bella calls for me from behind the thin walls and windows of the hospital.

Elizabeth laughs softly. "Oh, wow, is that her?"

"That's her," I say, grin wide.

"She's here before your parents. Aw. She must love you back."

"You think?"

"Well, if she's making such a stink about seeing you, I'd say so."

"They won't let her in."

"Standard practice."

"I'd see her over my parents if I had to choose. It's not like I'm dying. You said yourself I may only need a few stitches. If I asked for her, would the nurses bring her back?"

"Probably not, sweetie." She pats my arm sympathetically. "I have to go. Good luck, Edward."

A few minutes pass. Bella's quiet, so I guess they got her calmed down or she's getting her bat. I smile at the thought, and then my curtain parts, and a whirl of brown hair enters my room. She's in my old JV Cullen jersey, knee socks, and nothing else I can see. She looks just . . . ugh . . . I want my hands on her. Good thing I'm in a hospital. If I have a heart attack everything will be okay.

She takes me in from head to toe, and her eyes narrow, focusing on the gash above my eyebrow.

"They wouldn't let me call—"

Bella covers her mouth with her finger, shushing me and pointing wildly at the curtain. So she snuck in, I guess.

She walks slowly to the head of the bed, keeping eye contact with me. "Are you okay?" she asks, voice quiet.

"Yeah, are you?"

Bella shakes her head, eyes closed, and a few tears slip down her cheeks. I reach for her hand and lace my fingers with hers. Her eyes open, though she blinks furiously, getting rid of the wetness there. She's always hated crying.

"Don't cry," I say, giving her hand a shake and smiling softly.

"I can't help it," she whispers, leaning over me, stroking my brow carefully.

I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of her hand on me. She runs it down my cheek and, to my surprise, kisses me. It's soft and sensual at the same time, making me want to pull her down into this bed so I can really kiss her properly.

She leaves me dazed, lips puckered, needing more when she pulls away and sits beside me.

I want to ask her why she's kissing me. I don't want to ruin anything, so I don't mention it. Instead, I ask, "How did you get in here?"

"Some lady let me in. Said you were sweet," she whispers.

"Am I?" I don't feel that way, not with everything I've put her through.

"The sweetest," she says, voice still a whisper, then adds, "but you're kind of clueless. I can't get myself to care about that. You don't know how hard it is to stay away from you, to be angry with you. I know I act tough, but I'm not. Not when it comes to you." She wipes her eyes, proving her point.

My mom and Heidi bustle in, opening the curtain wide. Bella shrinks in size, curling into herself. She is wearing shorts, I see; they're just the tiniest ones known to man.

The nurse takes one look at Bella and our clasped hands and laughs boisterously, shaking her head. "I won't tell anyone," she announces.

"Hi, honey," Mom says, kissing my cheek. "You look okay. He'll be all right, right?"

"Things point that way. Still waiting on Dr. Jenks, but he'll most likely need a few stitches."

"That's not too bad." She turns her attention to me and says, "They told me this was your fault. What were you doing?"

"I was on my phone," I admit.

"I thought you were going to see Bella."

"He was on his way," Bella says, "and we were talking and then . . ." Bella drops her head and begins to bawl.

I have no idea what to do. I've never seen her this way before. Before I can react at all, my mom's around the bed, holding Bella, and they're sobbing into each other's arms. Really? I just need some stitches.

Dr. Jenks interrupts them as he enters the room for the first time. I only know who he is because of his nametag. "Hi, Edward. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I say, "but they may need some Valium or something."

"Is this Mom? Hi. Dr. Jenks. I'll be helping out your son today." Dr. Jenks and my mom shake hands. He comes over to my bedside and leans over me, pressing his now-gloved fingers to my wound. It's tender but not too painful. I just have a headache. "I think we can actually get away without stitches. Heidi?" he says, motioning for the nurse.

She opens and closes some drawers and hands over some medical items.

He smoothes on some ointment and presses the skin together. "You might feel a pinch, but it's better than a needle in your forehead, right?"

"Yeah," I say lamely.

"Mom, we're just putting some surgical glue in here to keep the wound closed so it can heal. He should be fine as long as he doesn't do anything crazy. And the nice thing with the glue is smaller scars. You probably won't even notice it, which will keep your boyfriend looking handsome," he says, his eyes on Bella.

"Um—," she starts.

"Don't worry about Vicky," he says, referring to the receptionist. "She's obsessed with the rules. We know you're not crazy. At least, we hope you're not." He chuckles at his own joke. Bella smiles uncomfortably. What can she say to that?

"Okay, Heidi, you get the proper paperwork, and this boy's good to go."

**-NSID-**

An hour later, I'm in Bella's car, and we're heading home. Dad showed up after the doctor left, and he and Mom talked for a while in the parking lot. I was getting antsy, so Bella offered to take me home.

I wipe my hands nervously on my jeans. They're spotted with blood, and my shirt's crusted over on the right side. Pretty gruesome.

A song with a boppy beat and blaring lyrics comes on the car stereo. Bella grimaces, quickly turning it down. "I'm sorry. How's your head?"

"It's fine. Drugs kicked in. I don't think I'd feel a thing if someone ran me over right now."

She shakes her head and glances at me, her mouth a thin line.

We drive home in silence. I'm terrified to talk to her, but my stomach clenches with the tension between us. I have so many questions: does she forgive me? What does she think about the fact that I love her? Will she be my girlfriend? Will she kiss me again? Will she walk away? What will she do?

I have no idea.

I keep my mouth shut, though. I got this far, and I don't want to screw it up. Not again.

She walks me to the front door, setting her eyes on me like stone. This can't be good.

"What?" I have to ask.

"Do you have your phone?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see it?'

Without thinking I hand it over, and she hurls it across the street, like she's aiming for someone at home plate. It smashes it into the asphalt, splattering its broken pieces everywhere.

"Bella! My phone!"

She gets in my face, standing tall. She's a menace. "Don't you ever call me in your car again! Not at a stoplight, not when you're parked, not ever. Never!" Her eyes are hard, nostrils flared. If I thought she was mad before, I was mistaken. And now, I'm a little scared she's going to hit me.

"Okay." I appease her quickly for my safety. I know she could throw a good punch. I've seen it a few times when guys got out of line or the time our rival team's catcher said she couldn't pitch. She was benched for three games and never once complained.

She stabs my chest with one of her pointer fingers. Ow! "If I so much as hear you turn it on, or hear it chirp, or do anything, I swear I will get my entire team to fire softballs at your head until you get it."

"I'm glad to know you care."

"Yeah, I do."

"Okay," I say, and she echoes the word before I unlock the door and head inside. She's mean when she wants to be. Then again, she's freaked out, and I deserve it.

She follows me into my room where I exchange my dirty shirt for a clean one. I turn to face her on the bed where she sits, arms wrapped around her striped socked legs. "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"You were scared?" I guess, taking a seat on my bed against the headboard.

Her bottom lip trembles, she swallows, and says quietly, "Terrified."

"I'm sorry."

"You can stop saying that."

"I think I'll probably be saying that to you my whole life."

"Maybe." She lays her head atop her knees and smoothes her hands down her legs, curling her fingers around her toes, holding them. She looks like a little girl, despite the sexy shorts and wearing my jersey, which I can't even wrap my brain around. When did she get it? I thought I threw it out when it stopped fitting. She must have hijacked it. How cool is that?

"Especially since I'll be your husband someday." She rolls her eyes. I wrap my hands around her feet and slide her forward a bit. "I mean, I think I heard that somewhere."

Finally, I get her to crack a smile. "They wouldn't let me in. I was saying anything."

"I'm just teasing you but not about the apologizing part. Truth is, I don't know what I'm doing. You're different."

"Different how?" She plays with her fingers nervously and stares at my plain gray bedspread.

"I can't charm you."

Bella bursts into laughter and throws herself backward, her feet landing in my lap. "I think we need to clear the air," she manages after calming down.

"All right. I'm wicked gross, though. Do you mind if we talk later? I want to shower and Mom's coming home tonight to look after me, so . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. I'll go home."

Bella gets up and smoothes out her shirt—my shirt.

"Nice outfit," I say as she walks through my doorway.

She tugs on the jersey and shrugs. "It's my favorite," she admits, shyly. I really want to kiss her. Maybe later.

I watch her walk away, her hips swaying as she goes. Definitely later.

**-NSID-**

After dinner and a long talk with Mom and Dad about phone safety and driving, which is null and void since my phone's destroyed, I climb the fence to visit Bella.

She sits on her porch-swing, Sandy sleeping by her side, her head on Bella's knee.

"Hey." I give Bella a little wave. I'm in pajama pants, my ripped undershirt, and flip flops. My crazy hair curls around the edges of my hat. Basically, I'm a mess, yet for some reason, Bella smiles. It's a brilliant one, too. And it's for me. She hasn't looked at me that way in quite awhile, and it goes straight to my heart.

"You don't look so scary now that you're cleaned up."

"Good. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know."

I stand awkwardly in front of her, my hands searching for pockets that don't exist.

"You can sit," she says. She lays Sandy on the ground, making room for me.

"How are you feeling? About us? About what I said? I mean, did you hear everything I said? Did you—"

"I heard you, Edward. I heard you."

"Okay." I bend forward, my elbows on my knees. I don't know what else to say. This deep stuff is hard; I wish we could skip it and play catch like we used to when we were kids. I'd break her toy, look apologetic, and ask her if she'd play ball. I'd give her my favorite bat, and then we'd be even. But we're all grown up now, and that doesn't work. At least, I don't think it will.

As if she knows I'm lost in my head and struggling, she puts her hand on my back and starts scratching lightly. Man, it feels good having her touch me.

"Did you mean it?"

I swing my head back, looking her in the eyes. "Yes, of course I meant it. I . . . "

"You sounded so desperate."

I turn fully, my knee pressed against hers. "I was. I am. I want us to be together. I know I'm going to mess up again and again, but I'm willing to try. I want to try. I feel like I have to because . . . like I said . . . I—I love you, Bella."

She shakes her head minutely and pinches her lips, twisting them awkwardly. Her eyes shimmer, but she seems happy. And when she smiles, I know I've said the right thing; I know this will all be okay.

I lean in, going for it completely, and place a chaste kiss on her lips. She sighs against me, but pulls back, saying my name.

"What?"

"There are no more ballparks. None. And I have wanted to kiss you since I was twelve, maybe even ten. So if you ever give me a tepid kiss like that again, I swear I'll—"

She can't finish her threat because my lips are pressed against hers in a firm kiss. She tugs me closer, her hands gripping my shoulders as she pulls me on top of her. With one hand threaded in her hair and my lips engaged with hers, I have one free hand to roam. It knows exactly where to go.

I start with her socked foot, pressing my thumb into her arch and running it up her calf, under her knee, making her shiver until I reach bare skin.

"We should probably talk. There are things I should explain . . ."

"Mmm hmm, later," I manage.

I continue to feel my way up her thigh until I'm hitting those tiny shorts. I grip her leg and yank it, so it's nearly wrapped around my waist.

She _mmphs_ but doesn't stop and slides her hands up my jaw, until she pulls my hat off.

"Not the hat," I whine.

"It's not your favorite," she mumbles, dropping it to the ground and kissing me again. Her body arches into mine, the letters of my own name on her chest, pressing into me. It's so hot.

"No, it's not my favorite." Why are we talking about hats?

"I have your favorite."

"_You_ are my favorite," I say.

She grips my wild hair in both hands and slams her mouth to mine.

I knew Bella was a good ball player, a good student, a good daughter, and a good friend. I didn't think beyond those roles, but as it turns out, she's good at a lot of things. Really good.


	15. Chapter 15 Zero

**Playlist: ****More of You by MoZella**

**Word Prompt****: Zero**

**Chapter 15**

When I was eight I had the stomach flu for three days. Katie had moved out, Garrett couldn't be trusted to take care of me, and Mom and Dad had work, so I stayed at Bella's with Gran Swan. She'd been living there for almost a year, and I knew her well. She was like my grandma, too, only I had no living grandparents.

Gran Swan fed me lots of liquids and tried to keep me full of saltines, which to this day, I detest.

When Bella came home from school the first day, she insisted on helping Gran make the chicken noodle soup I was going to eat when she sent me home. It was yummy even though I threw it up.

The following day, Bella played board games with me, and we watched cartoons until my mom got home.

On the final day, Bella asked me when I was getting better. When I told her I didn't know, she sighed, slumped outside, and played with Cory, who liked to kick my shins and steal my hat when I wouldn't give him quarters for the ice cream man.

I have never felt so betrayed in all my life. But Bella was eight. She just wanted to play. I get that, but it doesn't change the fact that when I'm sick or forced to be a patient, like I am now, I don't like it. Not one bit.

So far, I've managed to avoid everyone by sleeping in, but eventually I have to make contact with people, so I head into the bathroom to get cleaned up. While I'm in the shower, faint chatter filters in through the vent. I think Katie's here.

I brush my teeth and throw on some shorts before heading into the kitchen for breakfast. Katie's at the stove flipping pancakes. "Morning, sleepy head. 'Bout time you woke up."

"The next time you have a head injury, you see how early you wake up."

The pantry door opens, and Bella's closing it behind her, apple juice in hand. "There's no cran-apple," she says, her eyes wandering to my bare chest.

"Hi," I say, smile broad. This is a pleasant surprise.

"Well, I was going to ask if all this got settled, but obviously it did," Katie says, putting more batter into the pan.

"What did?" I ask, keeping my eyes on Bella. She's freshly showered, too, and wearing much more clothes than she was yesterday, thank goodness.

"You two. Geez, the looks on your faces are like a countdown to copulation."

"Um . . . where's Mom?" I ask.

"Work. She had to go in for a little bit, but she'll be home by lunch. Dad's staying home, though. It seems it takes three adults to care for you."

"An me!" Caleb announces his presence by wrapping his hands around my shins and poking his head between my legs.

I pull him up and hold him against my chest. "So you're gonna make sure I'm okay?"

"Momma said I sing."

"Oh, yeah? That'll make me much better."

"You get uh hurted." He jabs my injury with his stubby little finger.

"Yep, but let's not touch it. Okay, little dude?"

"Otay." Once I set him down, he totters off to find something else to do.

Bella opens the juice and leaves it on the counter, then begins cutting up bananas and strawberries. It's like gourmet up in here. I've got to get sick more often. I'm used to Cap N' Crunch now that Mom's moved out.

I lean over the counter, beside Bella, grazing her side along the way as I get a glass from the cupboard. "Sorry," I say.

"It's okay."

"Don't you have school? And practice? We've got playoffs next week."

"Dad called me in."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"Just like that?" I stand next to her as I guzzle my juice, her eyes lingering on me as I drink.

"I sort of insisted. And I figured I could help take care of you since, well, I felt bad for breaking your phone."

"Uh uh, no," Katie pipes in. "Girlfriend, that was the best thing you did." Katie goes in for a high five, and Bella obliges.

Bella turns around, resuming her chopping. When she's finished, she asks what she can do, but Katie's done with the pancakes and sends Caleb to get Dad.

We all sit at the table, eating breakfast together. I like Bella here with my family. Well, most of it anyway. And I like the way she's staring at me with my shirt off. Maybe being a patient's not as bad as I remember.

**-NSID-**

Katie puts Caleb down for a nap, and Bella and I are left with only Dad to bug us. And he does. He's asking us questions about school and the playoffs and Bella's teammates. I'm glad he's interested, but go away, old man.

He doesn't listen to my silent plea and challenges us to a game of Scrabble, which Bella wins because she always wins that game.

Dad sits back and reads the paper while Bella and I clean up the kitchen. We're quiet loading the dishwasher and stand exceptionally close as we wash and dry a few dishes that won't fit. I forget how quickly the washer fills when we're all here. And I forget what it's like to be attracted to someone and want to kiss them but you can't because your dad is in the freaking room. It sucks.

Bella folds the towel methodically and hangs it from the oven door. We both lean back against the counter and stare at each other. Bella blinks first and shakes her head, grinning.

"Wanna go to my room?" I ask, but she denies me.

"Your dad's not an imbecile."

"Wanna get some toilet paper? The bathrooms are low. It's all the way out in the garage. I bet it takes us awhile to find it. We could be gone a whole, oh," I say, glancing at my non-existent watch, "five minutes, I'd say."

"You're a dork," she says.

"You love it, I know."

"Never said I didn't. Cookies?"

"Yes, please."

"Any requests?" She begins rifling through cabinets and gathering the basics: flour, sugar, baking soda.

"Gran's oatmeal raisin."

"Okay, on it."

She gets started, getting all the supplies, and I stand in her way. What else am I going to do? She begins stirring ingredients in a heavy metal bowl on the counter, her right foot pressed against her left knee, like always. Only this time she's wearing black and white striped socks. She looks like a zebra. A flamingo zebra.

I watch her carefully, enjoying her in my kitchen, making me delicious treats. I taste the dough as she goes. I'm a tasting expert. Gran Swan always told me I was, and she never lied. She even said Bella would learn all of her best recipes someday. That's turned out to be true; these cookies are on that list.

I clean off my spoon, the sugary goodness dissolving on my tongue. I share my thanks with Bella by brushing her neck with my lips. She leans her head back on my shoulder, exposing her neck. I kiss her there more forcefully, and she grips the countertop. I want to turn her around, lift her up onto it, and press myself against her. But I can't because my dad is still shuffling pages of the newspaper in the living room.

So I have to get creative. The island is blocking his view of our lower halves, so I aim there. I wrap my hands around her waist, my chin pressed to her shoulder, and she starts on the cookies again, this time mixing in the raisins. As she stirs my hands wander, timidly brushing up and down her ribcage, then following down her tiny waist to her full hips and lower still. I get both hands nearly wrapped around her thighs and squeeze when she lets out a little squeak.

She exhales loudly and brushes her hair back. "What were you saying about toilet paper? You needed some, right?" She pushes me toward the pantry which leads to the garage, and once we're through the door, I'm pressed against the shelving, being molested. Hell, yes.

She presses her hands to my chest and kisses me, full on the mouth. She's not playing around one bit. I wrap my hands around her back to pull her close, but she slaps them away.

"Okay, stop touching me. I'm making Gran's cookies, and your dad is, like, right there." She's trying to be stern, but it's not really working because her lips are darker now from kissing, which makes me want to do it again.

"I'm sorry."

She narrows her eyes and pulls her lips to one side. "You are not."

"I'm totally not sorry," I admit.

She turns, but I stop her, pulling her in again. "Where're you going? Toilet paper takes a long time to . . ." I let my words dissolve when my mouth makes contact with hers again. Damn, she can kiss. I can't believe I've been missing out on this all these years.

She pulls away and presses her fingers to her lips. What is she doing? Checking if they're still there?

"I can't believe this," she whispers before backing out of the pantry, a warning finger held out in front of her. Yeah, that'll work. "No more touching." I shove my hands in my pockets. She adds, "And put a shirt on"

"I'll put a shirt on if you lose those sexy socks."

"What? They're stripes. And knee socks are either nerdy or sporty and—"

"They've played a huge part in my dreams as of late. That's all I'm saying."

Her eyes go wide, and she giggles. "Really?"

"You have amazing legs, Bella."

She puts her hands on her hips, disbelieving. "Okay, now you're being stupid."

"Stupid in love."

"I have to finish these cookies," she says abruptly and leaves the pantry.

I stay there a few minutes to cool off. It doesn't help because when I exit the door, she's bent over at the waist putting the cookies in the oven.

_Please, Dad, leave now._

Katie saunters into the kitchen with a whiney Caleb on her hip. "Why are you standing in the pantry doorway?"

"I thought you were putting him to sleep," I say, trying to divert the conversation.

"I did. It was an hour nap on the breast. That's probably all he'll do today, and he'll be crabby the rest of the day. Let this be a lesson to you. If you abstain from sexual intercourse—which you should because you're my baby brother—you'll have zero chance of making a pooping, needing, screaming little guy like this." Katie sets him down, and as if it's staged, he screams at the top of his lungs, like he's in agony. Bella looks to Caleb then to me with serious eyes as if to say, I like that plan.

I like that plan, too, the part about not making babies. The other part not so much. But we're in the early stages of fooling around. It's all good. Should be for a long while, too. Bella and I are brand new in terms of a physical relationship, so we have a lot to explore together. I'm looking forward to it.

"Will you stop staring at her sex legs?" Katie scolds.

"What?" Bella asks, shocked.

"Seriously, he can't stop looking. And if I batted for the other team, I'd be looking, too, Bella. You have nice legs. Do you do any special exercises?"

The girls chat as though I'm not there, which sucks because I am, and Bella and I had a flirty thing going before Katie ruined it.

Mom comes home early, and we all eat lunch together, my mom leaving pain pills next to my plate like she used to do with my vitamins when I was kid. How embarrassing. She also chastises me about not wearing a shirt when we have company and picks one out for me to wear—a striped button down, which I never wear but she always hopes I will.

After lunch I hope to commandeer Bella, but my mom and Katie monopolize her time. I'm nothing compared to her, apparently. Not that I'm jealous, I just want more time with Bella—to talk and stuff.

Bella goes home for the night after Katie leaves. It's only been an hour or so, but I miss her. When Mom and Dad are tucked away in their bedroom, I sneak over to Bella's.

She's seated on the couch under a blanket, watching I Love Lucy. She bends her head back awkwardly to say hello.

"Hey, mind if I hang out?"

"We were with each other all day." She looks happy to see me, though.

"As it should be. Move over."

She positions herself on the opposite end of the couch. I take a seat and stare. She's so pretty; it's hard not to.

"You make me insane. Did you know that?" she asks, eyes playful.

I shrug. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why now? Why are you okay with this now when two days ago you hated me?"

"I've never hated you. I think that's part of the problem. I—you are the most—look, going from friends to something else was so, so scary because what we have is great."

"I know," I say, nodding. It is, and it's time to amp that sucker up.

"I mean, do I go for it and risk losing what we have, or do I stay in the safe friend zone? There was so much to think about. But that car accident put things into perspective, and I," she fiddles with the edges of the blanket, her eyes cast down, "I was ready to talk to you anyway. I feel silly for the way I overreacted after prom. It's just—I'm . . ."

"You're what? Talk to me." I want to keep this going. This is good. Talking is good.

"When I'm around you I'm a sensitive basket case. I don't know how you can stand it—my mood swings and the way I've been treating you. Edward, you—"

"The way you've been treating me? Are you kidding me?" Sure, she's been sensitive, but I've been the idiot. Not her.

"No, not at all. I said we needed to clear the air the other day, but we just, um, kissed, and then this morning . . . we should've talked."

"It's okay. We're talking now."

"I feel craptastic about what happened with Jake, too. I know it wasn't fair; I knew it at the time, even. I mean, going on dates with him and then spending the rest of my time trying not to jump on you. It just didn't feel right."

She's being serious, but my smile is wide. She wanted to jump on me? Cool.

"I don't know for sure, but it seemed like the more he knew about you trying to get with me, the more he liked the challenge or something. It felt like it turned into a game for him."

"Well, I do think he really liked you."

"Yeah, but neither of you deserved that back and forth nonsense, but I just . . . I don't know. I really did like him. But after that night when you—you asked me to stop kissing him, well, I did. I knew that I wasn't giving him a fair shot, that I couldn't, because I liked you more. I've always liked you more, but at that point, Jake and I were really close, and I didn't know how to ask him to just give up completely. And he'd asked me to prom already. I wanted him to have a good time at the dance. It seemed like the least I could do, and he knew at that point. I could tell he was disappointed, but we're tight enough that he won't hold it against me. In fact, he wished me luck when he dropped me off after prom."

"Like you needed luck." I laugh. "He should've texted me, told me I needed luck."

"Do you—are you mad at me?" Her eyes are on mine. They're soft, pleading.

"Bella, I haven't even really thought about it. I didn't even think about it like that. I was honest with you, and you were honest with me. I knew what was going on. It was your choice. It's not like we're married. And you weren't even his girlfriend. If you feel like you need to apologize that's fine, but I don't need it. That's over, and I'm fine. I have you."

She smiles and whispers, "You're kind of amazing."

"So are you," I offer. "Are we good?"

"So good. Thank you. For listening."

"You're welcome. And thanks for talking to me. Oh, and, Bella, what we have is better than great."

Her smile reaches her eyes before she turns them back to the TV.

I lie down taking up loads of space, lowering my head into her lap. I wiggle it around, hoping she'll play with my hair. I love that. I even left my hat at home. When she doesn't take the hint, I place her hand atop my head and swirl it around. "Ah," I say, "the life of a patient is blissful."

She chuckles and begins pulling her fingers through my hair. "You're needy."

"Yeah, so. You're a giver. We're a perfect match."

She doesn't say anything and flips through the channels. We pass up Batman Begins, and I stuff my desire to ask if we can watch it.

She sighs and flips around the bend, landing on Christian Bale and Liam Neesen training in the snow. "Sometimes I'm _too_ giving," she admits.

I reach up and cup her cheek, getting her eyes on me. "Yeah, you are," I say. "I'll try not to take so much."

"Okay." She leans lower, hovering over me until her silky hair's in my face.

"Except maybe this," I whisper, pushing her strands aside and brushing my lips against hers.

I stare at her, and I feel incredibly lucky to be here. In her lap, in her presence, in her heart. In some way, at least. It's then I have to know . . . "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes." She kisses me again, soft warm lips on mine.

"Will you go on a date with me?"

"Yes, but not until we get you all better."

"And how will you do that?" I ask, hoping she'll say something dirty. I'd pay her to do it. Maybe someday. Now's not the time. But she surprises me with her response. In a good way.

"I have some ideas . . ." She fades off as she tugs me up and slips her tongue into my mouth.

Yeah, being a patient isn't so bad.

**A/N: Lots of talking in this chapter. Big sigh.**


	16. Chapter 16 Red Handed

**Playlist: Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer**

**Dialogue Flex****: "He was caught red-handed," she said.**

**Chapter 16**

"You're a cheater," Bella says beneath me, hands on my back. It's Saturday night; my family's bugging me at home, so I came to Bella's. Charlie's out on an emergency job, so it didn't take us long to tangle ourselves up on the couch. It's a big couch. I like it.

"I don't cheat," I say, licking her neck and making her heart rate spike.

"That is not true," she says, poking me in the chest. "Remember that time you palmed that ace?"

"You are never going to let me live that down," I say, fully recalling the incident. It's the last memory I have of Gran Swan, who died not long after from liver cancer. She had decided to stay home with her family once she was diagnosed.

We were playing cards. I hid an ace in my sleeve, waiting for the right moment to pull it out and win. She couldn't prove it, but she could yell at me.

"You're a cheating cheater," Bella shouted, her spindly arms, dangling at her sides, hands clenched in fists.

"I didn't cheat," I swore. I did.

"You did cheat. And I'm not playing with you anymore until you tell me you're a cheater, you cheater!"

"Bells," Gran Swan called from the back room, where she spent all her time now that she couldn't walk well.

At the sound of her voice, I ran. Gran always knew when I was lying.

I bolted through the backyard and catapulted myself over the block wall, scraping my knee as I tumbled down the other side. The stabbing pain only worsened as I ran inside, collapsing on the kitchen tile to cry.

"What do you want?" Garrett asked, milk carton at his lips, glaring at me.

"Nothing," I whimpered, holding my bad leg. I didn't want him to see. He'd probably make fun of me. But it was his fault; he taught me that card trick.

"Did Mom get any lunch meat?" Katie asked, checking the fridge.

"I don't know. Don't you have food at your own home? I thought we got rid of you," Garrett said.

"Shut up. You know, you're always acting so ugly to everyone, I hope karma bites you in the ass. And don't ever say that word, Edward, or I swear—"

"I don't even know what karma is." _And Mom would ground me if I said ass._

Garrett snickered, but Katie began to explain, coming down to my level. I was pretty tall for an eleven-year-old, but she was still taller. "Karma is like . . . if you do something awful . . ." She stares at Garrett as if she's talking about him. "Then something awful happens to you back."

My ears perked up at her words, and I worried. What would happen to me? I cheated and lied to my best friend. Karma sounded bad, real bad.

I got to my feet and made my way back to Bella's. I wasn't a very good friend. She hadn't done anything to me. I needed to make it right.

I climbed the wall slowly, being sure not to make my leg worse on the rough concrete.

I went inside, but Bella wasn't there. I wandered down the hallway, following muffled voices. Bella was in Gran's room.

"But he doesn't even see me. What if he never does? I say things, and he doesn't pay attention. And then like today, like I said . . . he was so mean."

"I know, but you have to remember how different boys are from girls. You remember what I told you, right?"

"Yes, but how long do I have to wait? John Kerner was staring at me all week, and he said I had shiny hair and smiled and gave me a piece of gum. And I bet he wouldn't cheat at cards."

Bella was trying to replace me. Was this karma? Was this what would happen? She'd be friends with John Nose-Picker Kerner and drop me? He had pimples on his face (like Garrett) and was super tall. I did not like him.

I knocked on the door immediately. "Bella?"

"Come in, dear," Gran said.

"Do you want to play catch?" I asked, toeing the carpet and feeling lousy.

Bella looked to her grandmother, then back to me. "Fine."

"Let's fix up your knee first," Gran said, and she sat up, pointing to the bathroom. "Go fetch me a wet washcloth, Edward, will ya?"

I nodded and got her what she wanted. When I came back, Bella was gone, most likely getting her glove and a few balls. Gran patted the spot next to her, so I hopped on the bed. She dabbed at my bloodied knee and blew on it. "That's not so bad," she said. "See how easy that was?"

I nodded. It was easy, cleaning up my knee _and_ getting Bella to do something with me again. I just had to ask.

"Bella just wants life to be fair, dear. But she doesn't know how hard it is to be a boy. To have feelings but not understand them or to notice something but not know what you're seeing. Not for a long time, anyway."

I nodded, but I didn't really get it.

"Go play, and you be nice to my granddaughter."

"I'll try," I said as I hopped off the bed.

As I played ball with Bella, I kept wondering two things. One, what would she have played with John? It made me angry she'd even thought about it. And two, how had I never noticed how shiny her hair was before? I wanted to touch it to see how soft it was.

But now I know. My hands slip through Bella's hair as she writhes beneath me, angling herself upward so I can kiss her neck and make her feel good. She hitches her hips up, encasing my waist with her legs and making me feel everything. There's nothing better than Bella beneath me. Except for maybe Bella on top of me. But other than our first kiss, we haven't really gone there yet.

"Man, I love you," I whisper into her neck as she pulls me by my hair to kiss me.

"It's time for you to go home now, Edward," Charlie says, voice loud and clear.

Shit! How did we not hear the garage door?

I stand up immediately, Bella nearly falling off the couch.

"I'm sorry, Coach," I say quickly, hoping politeness and sucking up will keep me from getting kicked out.

"Dad, we were just kissing and—"

"And nothing. There are rules in this house, young lady."

"I know, and we weren't in my room." She sat up and folded her arms across her chest.

"His hand was —"

"No, it wasn't!" I yell defensively. Maybe too defensively, but it wasn't.

"Dad, it wasn't," Bella protests.

"He was caught red-handed," he says, pointing at me.

"He didn't do anything," Bella says, protecting me. I didn't not do _anything_, but I didn't do what he's accusing me of.

"He was about to," Charlie says, cheeks red. "I said fix it, not put your hands on my kid."

"Just go," Bella says to me, and I edge my way out of the living room and into the kitchen, heading for the back door. They continue to argue. I hate to leave Bella to deal with this, but I'm not sure what else to do.

I shut the door behind me once I'm outside and breathe a sigh of relief. But not for long because it swings open just afterward. Charlie is scary like this, and he could totally kick my ass.

"I know where you live. I know your parents' schedules. I'm really good with a baseball bat." What's with these Swans threatening everyone with bats?

"Yes, okay, uh huh," is what I manage. Then add, "Would you like to join my family for dinner on Sunday? Bella's coming." That's a good peace offering, right?

"That's," he starts, eyes narrowed, but they soften, "that would be fine."

"Okay, I'll tell my mom."

"You do that. And you keep your damn hands off my daughter."

I shove my hands in my pockets and nod. I figure that's safer than saying anything else. I walk backwards a bit before turning and going home.

Before bed, I check the old iPhone my mom set up for me. Bella's sent me a text. I miss the moo from my previous phone.

_I'm sorry. He got my mom pregnant young, and now he's freaked out karma will bite him in the butt or something. –B _

_Karma doesn't know about condoms; I do. –E _

She doesn't respond, and I get nervous.

_I'm joking. I mean, I know about condoms, but I'm not saying we'll have sex. It was a joke. –E _

I am so stupid.

_I know. :) –B _

A few minutes pass before my phone lights up one last time. _That thing you do with your tongue is amazing. Night, Edward. –B _

All I can think about is getting her back for the state she put me in with that text. It's right before bedtime; that's just rude. Then again, karma's a bitch. I'm sure it can come up with something_. _

**-NSID-**

I button up a shirt Mom bought me, and my door opens. In walks Katie, Caleb free. Greg must be here already. That's good.

"Ever thought of knocking?"

"I was hoping to catch some Edward bum. You always had the cutest little bum. I used to hide your towel."

"This is gross."

"You were six." She rolls her eyes.

"Can I help you?" I ask, sitting down on the bed and running my hands through my wet hair. Bella and Charlie will be here for dinner shortly, and I want to look nice, so I shaved and showered.

"What are you gonna do about Charlie?"

"What? How do you—"

"He just left. He was talking to Dad outside his study."

"Great, so Garrett knows."

"He was taking a nap in there."

"Yeah, right."

"Well, anyway, so what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know."

"You need to be a perfect gentleman when you're around him. Let him see you doing things for Bella."

"Okay, yeah, good idea."

Mom passes by, a vase in hand, and stops in the doorway. "Oh, honey, you look so nice in that shirt. I knew it'd bring out your pretty eyes."

I want to roll my pretty eyes at my mom's compliment. It's just so . . . motherly.

"Just be sure not to get caught again," Katie continues like Mom's not even there.

"Oh, we talking about you and Bella making out on the Swan couch? Really, Edward, that's in poor taste."

"How do you know about this?" I ask, pulling at my hair.

"I'm your mother," she says, like it's obvious. "Anyway, dinner's ready. We're just waiting on Charlie."

"Wait? Bella's here?"

"Yeah. She looks nice," Mom says.

"She curled her hair for you," Katie adds. "And she's not wearing cleats."

I push through the door to find Bella sitting on my couch, chatting with Garrett. Her smile's huge. Is he flirting with her?

"Garrett, no," I bark and sit next to her, wrapping my arm around her. She smells of vanilla, like she does early mornings before school. "Your hair looks all shiny. Pretty," I whisper in her ear, earning a shy smile.

"What?" Garrett asks, arms wide. "It's not like I'm going to defile her on the couch or something." I throw a magazine at his head, and he catches it. "Besides, I already have a girl."

"A blow up doll doesn't count."

"Ha ha. As a matter of fact, I'm dating this hot blonde from the office."

"Oh, what happened to Lauren? I thought you guys were so sweet together," Bella says, lips in a pout.

"Um, we uh, college crap happened and we split, and I haven't seen her since. Don't even know where she is. We've emailed a few times, but I don't—"

"She lives here," Bella says, folding her hand in mine.

"What?" Garrett asks, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, she works part time doing books at that accounting firm on Robins, but she still sings. Just saw her in the community production of Les Mis, oh, about a month or so ago."

"Huh," Garrett says, and I echo the sentiment He looks stupid. Like Lauren has made him stupid. He is stupid.

When Charlie shows up, we all enjoy the pot roast Mom made and have an easy going conversation about her new job. Charlie asks her loads of questions that had never occurred to me. He's really attentive. It's weird. But I guess I haven't seen him interact with a grown woman conversationally before. I need to hang out with him more often. He could teach me a thing or two that my dad can't: how to pay attention and genuinely care.

After dinner, he plays with Caleb, rough-housing with him, and a pang in my gut tells me he would've liked to have had more kids. A boy, at least.

"You gun kill Unca Ed?" Caleb asks Charlie, and everyone bursts into laughter but me.

"Not if he's a good boy," Charlie answers.

"He's gun be good. Mommy said uh so 'cause he don't wanted to get died."

I think it's the most I've ever heard Caleb say before. And it's about my death. Awesome.

"Sounds like a good idea." Charlie side-eyes me, smiling. He's not so scary with tiny Caleb next to him. He just looks like a dad. I can handle a dad.

The peach cobbler is delicious, and Charlie and Bella head home shortly after finishing it.

Katie and Greg are on their way out, I think, when Greg appears in my doorway asking for a minute. He shuts the door behind him and pulls out his wallet. "Look, I know I'm not your dad or your mom or even your brother or sister, but I just feel like I should . . ." He pulls out a foil wrapper and hands it over with a "here."

"Thanks," I say because what else do you say when your brother-in-law hands you a condom that was meant to be used with your sister?

"If you need more or advice or whatever or anything really, just . . . well, you have my cell. And I won't tell anyone. I promise."

"Okay. Thanks, Greg." I pocket the condom and can't keep the grin off my face, knowing that if I wanted to have sex right now, I'd be covered. Literally. It's an awesome feeling. And it makes me miss Bella, so I text her.

_What are you doing? _

_Laverne and Shirley marathon. _

_Sexy. _

_I've got my socks on. _

_Damn. Which ones? _

_Dark gray. _

_With the little bow? _

_Those be them. _She sounds like a pirate.

_I want to come over and roll them down. _

_No you don't. You want to feel them up. _

_And up and up. _ I admit it; I can't help it.

_You're a pervert._

_Never said I didn't._

_And an idiot._

_Come on, it works. _

_No, it doesn't._

_It's romantic?_

_Yeah, that question mark works there._

_I can be romantic._ I'm a little defensive about this. I'm not sure how true it is. I hope it's true.

_I'm sure you're real suave when you want to be._

_Like now?_

_Sure?_

_That question mark doesn't belong there. _

_It doesn't? I'm fairly certain I used it correctly._ She would know. She's a punctuation nazi.

_Uh huh._

I wait a moment to see if she'll continue this stupid conversation, but she doesn't. I don't want to be done yet, so I blather on.

_My parents are doing better. She's been here this whole time, and before that she was staying Sunday nights. _

_That's sweet. Like they're reconnecting._

_Yeah, but my mom deserves so much more than my dad gives her. I wish he could see what I see._

_And what do you see?_

_A beautiful, talented, loving woman that needs to be cherished and adored._

_Sigh . . ._

_What?_

_You're right._

_About?_

_You are romantic. _

_I wasn't even trying. _

_Gran always said you were sweet. _

_What else did Gran say? _This could be good.

_That a boy who loved his mother as much as you did would be worth the wait._

_And . . . I love Gran, by the way._

_You're worth it?_

_Screw you and your question marks. _

_Ha ha ha!_

_I'll show you ha ha ha!_

_?_

I slip out my back door and hop the fence. I tap on her window, and she peeks out, eyes shocked. She comes to her kitchen door and tiptoes out silently. I don't say anything. Instead, I sweep her hair over her shoulder, fasten my hand to her neck, and lean in for a slow, deliberate kiss.

I move my lips at a languid pace, never diverting from it, warmth building between us. With my hands cupping her cheeks, I seek out her eyes and smile softly before one last, smooth kiss.

And then I head home.

In the quiet of my room, my phone chimes.

_!_

I cover my mouth, laughing. She always puts a smile on my face; I love that about her. I love so many things about her. I just want to lie here staring at my stars, thinking about her all night, but I can't. I have homework to do.

I don't have much, so I finish it quickly. Mom and Dad are arguing in their bedroom—which is quite shocking since they've been getting along so well—but there's nothing I can do about it. Hopefully, they're working things out. I try to stay positive for them, but it's difficult at times. I go to bed and try to focus my thoughts on the pretty girl with shiny hair next door and the fact that I get to hold her hand tomorrow at school. Maybe while we're there I can get her to send me some more exclamation marks.


	17. Chapter 17 Reliquish

**Playlist: Hey Na Na by Katie Herzig**

**Word Prompt****: Relinquish**

**Chapter 17**

As I exit Bella's tiny clown car, I'm admittedly embarrassed. There's something ridiculous about letting your girlfriend drive you around, but since I totaled my own vehicle (and my parents refuse to buy me a new car) I don't have a choice.

"Don't be such a guy," Bella scolds.

"I feel like I should be in charge of transportation," I say, putting my backpack on.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It's not like you're a bus schedule coordinator. It's just a ride to school."

"I know, but . . . you wouldn't get it."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Because you're a girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't—I'm not insulting you. I'm talking about chivalry or manners or whatever."

"Like you've ever had manners around me."

"I have."

"Just keep telling yourself that, Edward.

"I will because it's true. You'll see."

"You'll see means you haven't done it yet. Did you just admit you're wrong?"

"No."

"Of course not. Well, whatever. I'll believe it when I see it."

"Would you like me to hold your bag?" I ask, and Bella's eyes open wide, an expression of disappointment on her face. "What?"

"No. I don't want you to hold my bag."

"Why not?"

"Because it's 2012 not 1912."

"Well, can I hold your—"

"No, I'm not an invalid."

"Hold your hand is what I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me. Maybe you should go to charm school or something. You could use some manners."

"Shut up."

"I'm pretty sure it's rude to tell your boyfriend to shut up."

"Hmm, maybe, but you'd better get used to it. This is how I roll. You know that. Take it or leave it." She holds out her hand in offering, and I look around at passersby. No one's paying us any attention, and I'm kind of bummed about it. I want it to be a big deal. I want our peers to gape and clap and give a thumbs up since I scored Bella Swan. But the only thing that happens is that she smiles wide, and her eyes shine bright when I lace my fingers with hers. That's good enough for me.

When we get to the double doors of the building we stop and stand before them, gazing at each other. At least, I think we're gazing until Bella blurts out, "Are you gonna open the door or not, Mr. Polite? I don't have all day to get to first period."

"Oh, right."

I open it and let her inside first like I should. She chuckles as she passes by me, but I pull her back by her waist and surprise her with a quick kiss. "I thought we were just being swoony with each other."

"I don't really do swoon," Bella says.

"Yeah right. You were speechless last night. You so do swoon," I retort.

Her face pinks a bit, she cups my cheeks, stroking my skin, and says, "Maybe a little swoon," before walking to class.

**-NSID-**

"What is your deal? You're running to lunch. It's mystery meat day," Marcus says, as we walk the halls, headed to the cafeteria.

"I'm hungry," I say, yanking the door open and spotting Bella right away.

She's in line at the soda machine, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, wavy and dangling down her back. From her stance—leaning slightly, weight on her left foot, hand on her hip—I can tell she's irritated. There's a red headed freshman at the front of the line, letting her friends—mostly guys—cut. "Can you let a few more people in, please? That would be great because I have all day to get my Coke."

"Seriously," a girl behind her adds.

Bella swivels her head to respond to the girl. "Right?" Bella says, but then her eyes snap to mine, and she gets this stupid grin on her face.

I wave her over, but she shakes her head and mouths, "Coke." I pull one from my bag with a flourish, and she abandons the line.

She uncaps it and takes a big swig. "It's cold and everything."

"Romance," I say, nodding.

"I like it," Bella says, turning and heading to our table.

We all stare and watch her leave. She's in polka dot knee socks today and tiny, bright blue knit shorts. I want to sit her up on the table and run my hands over her calves and kiss the hell out of her. Maybe throw a tray off the table.

Marcus swipes his hand in front of my eyes, but I don't respond.

Peter checks my forehead and presses his ear to my chest. "I can't make out a heartbeat," he says. "She killed him. Maybe a testosterone surge or something"

Marcus claps him on the shoulder, saying, "We've lost him. Come on, Peter."

Peter tries to take the only open seat next to Bella, but I yank him back before he can sit. "Your head doesn't look so bad," Marcus says, mouth full of sandwich.

"I was hoping it would be ugly. You need some ugly on that mug of yours," Peter adds.

"It should leave a scar. Those are sexy, right?" I ask, turning to Bella.

She runs her thumb under my head wound, and I close my eyes, taking in her touch.

"You were just with Jake. When did this happen?" Charlotte nearly squeals.

"What?" Bella asks, taking a bite of chip into her mouth.

"Oh, come on. You're totally into him," Charlotte says.

"You're into me?" I ask, beaming.

"Shut up." She pushes my shoulder away, and I shove her back.

Jane stares at us and then at her man. "Why don't you ever push me like that?"

"You want me to abuse you?" Marcus asks. "That's creepy."

Bella and I swing our eyes to each other's and start giggling. Before anyone can ask us what we're laughing about, we leave the table, finding a concrete bench outside to sit alone.

Jake passes us and nods. Bella gives him a small wave, and I give him a smug smile. It's rude, I know, but I can't help myself. I won. I like winning.

"You guys think you have a chance tomorrow?" I ask.

"I think we'll make State," she says confidently.

"Yeah, I heard our softball team has a badass pitcher."

"We do. She'll take us all the way."

"You want to go all the way?"

"Hell, yeah," she says, then snaps her eyes to mine which I'm sure are smiling along with my mouth. She shakes her head and pushes at my chest.

"I'm just teasing. Why are you so shy about this?"

"I don't—no one ever talks to me about—I grew up with my dad." She moves from her seat to perch herself on top of the table.

"And what? He never talked to you about sex?"

"Shh," she says, covering my mouth quickly. "No, okay."

"Your mom?"

"No. She wanted to, but by then I was too old. It was weird."

"No one?" I ask incredulous. That's awful.

"I know about sex, okay. _I know_." She gives me a look, and I panic. Has she already gone there? Without me?

I move atop the table, too, to be beside her. "Did you and Jake?"

She drops her head and breathes in heavily. "I don't want to talk about this." She draws her legs in and wraps her hands around her knees.

"We weren't together. It's—I mean, it's all right if you did. He sort of alluded to—"

"What!" She squeezes her knees with her hands.

"I haven't, but—"

"Really?" Her head shoots up, eyes wide.

I shrug in response.

Bella bursts out into peals of laughter. "That lying whore."

"Who's a lying whore?"

"Who do you think?"

"Someone from the hair connection?"

"Good guess," Bella says.

"What did she say?"

"What didn't she say?"

I raise my eyebrows. I really want to know.

Bella pulls me closer, so she can speak quietly, right next to my ear. "You have this amazing tongue and gentle but strong hands and some serious stamina."

Bella saying this stuff, her breath brushing against my skin is doing things to me. I want to go home with her. Like five minutes ago.

"She wasn't that classy about it, though. And she talked about, um," she leans in and whispers, "positions."

My brain flies into a frenzy, thinking of Bella in nothing but those socks in every position imaginable.

"So it's not true?" She's quiet. Unsure, I think.

"Oh, no. No, we didn't. I mean, _some_ of it's true." I lean in, my hands braced on her waist and lick her mouth open. "You've already met my tongue."

"Uh huh," she murmurs afterward.

"And," I say, kissing her neck, my thumb stroking her belly beneath her shirt, "I could introduce you to my hands."

"Oh, okay," she says, staring at my lips. She's so stinkin' cute.

"You want to come over Friday? After our date? Dad's eating dinner at my mom's."

Bella won't look at me, her eyes cast down at our hands.

"Hey, you okay? Am I freaking you out?"

"No," she says quietly.

"Am I going too fast? You don't have to come over. I don't have to use my hands. I—"

"No, I want you to." She covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes wiggling over my face.

"I want to, too," I say, and she sighs in relief.

"This is just weird. I was taught not to talk about it. You don't talk about it, you do."

"That's a good motto."

"Gran's."

"Really?"

"That's how I know.

"Gran?" I throw my hands out, startled.

"She and Pop had a healthy life. And Gran missed him. Missed him a lot. In a lot of ways."

"Oh, gross."

"Yeah," she says, "but he apparently knew, um, what he was doing. And Gran always told me I'd know when it was right when I was in love, one, and two, when I found someone patient."

"Are you in love?"

She rolls her eyes, but I'm not deterred.

"I can be patient." In a lot of ways

She snaps her eyes to mine and grins. "What if I don't want you to be?"

Now my eyes go wide, and I swallow thickly. Really?

Bella pulls me closer by the hands, and runs hers over my forearms, turning them so she can follow the veins with her fingertips. "You know that spot between the locker room and the weight room where they keep the kick balls?"

"Yeah."

"Want to meet me there before practice?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." She hops off the table and gathers her stuff.

I'm stunned, rubbing my neck when she gets on tiptoe to kiss me, her hand on my chest. I can't think of anything to say so I say nothing. But when I get to English, I pull out my phone before class and send her a text.

_!_

**-NSID-**

"We're starting in five," she says, her head thrown back as I kiss her neck.

"Okay." I tug her thigh, pressing against her and taking her mouth. She's trapped between my body and the wall. It smells like new rubber in this stupid spot, but I couldn't care less.

"I should get my cleats on." She pulls at my hair and devours my mouth.

"Why is that so sexy when you say that?"

"What?"

"I don't know. Anything about baseball."

"Because baseball's hot. Mmm." She moans when I lift her off the floor, forcing her to wrap both legs around me. I love this so much.

"These pants are hot," I say, getting braver and running my right hand over her butt.

"I know."

"Listen to you. A little conceited there. Am I giving you a big head?"

"No." She laughs, then sucks on my bottom lip. "One more," she says and makes it worth our while, sliding her tongue along mine. "I really have to go."

"Okay. I let her down and take a step back. I turn slightly, bracing my hand on the wall. I've got to get my body under control before going out onto the field. These pants are tight.

She sits on the floor beside me, lacing up her cleats and tying them. She stands behind me, fixing her hair. "What I meant . . . about the pants being hot . . ."

"Yeah?" I look over my shoulder at her. Her lips are swollen and pink from my kisses. I did that.

"I've been gaping at your ass for years." She slaps my butt then adds, "Have a good game, Cullen." Her cleats click down the linoleum hall.

I was almost ready to get out there, but that last move makes me a few minutes late to practice. It was worth it, though—Bella touched my butt.

After running my laps for being tardy, I'm in the dugout waiting to hit. We're practicing bunts today. Coach wants to do something unexpected to get us through the playoffs.

Emmett's up. He's huge and looks absolutely ridiculous tapping the ball so lightly with a slight swivel of his hips. He's our consistent home run hitter, so this is stupid, in my opinion.

When he gets back, he digs into his sunflower seeds, offering me some. "So what'd you do to Jake?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He's got a black eye, man."

"What? Not me."

"No shit?"

"Seriously."

"Huh, so it's true."

I laugh. "Dude, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bella hit him. For lying about sex. He's probably a virgin." Emmett laughs raucously and throws back some more seeds.

I smile at this. Did Bella hit him? That would be so awesome. I love how she defends herself. She's tough as nails. Plus, that would mean in one day she beat up Jake, made out with me, and smacked my ass. Awesome.

"So how's your neighbor?" Emmett asks.

"No. She's not even in high school."

"Doesn't mean I can't keep tabs on her."

"Her crushes are serious. She's been checking me out for years."

"Yeah, but not anymore, bro. Not anymore."

"Cullen," Coach calls, and I'm up to bunt. I feel so good though I want to hit it out of the park, so screw it, I do.

And end up doing more laps.

Bella joins me after as I hit my second lap.

"Fancy meeting you here," she says as we run side by side.

"Are you running because you decked Jake?"

"No, Coach said he deserved it," she says through laughter.

"Did you get in trouble for me?"

"Maybe," she says, her arms pumping, her breathing even. "Pick up the pace, Cullen."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I already admitted it." She darts in front of me, her ponytail swinging as she goes.

Damn, I love her flirting. And love watching her run, her long legs cutting through the air, her tiptoes pushing off the grass. She's beauty in motion. We're in motion. And I want to stay that way. It's amazing what happens when you relinquish control. When you just let life move on its own, dashing through trial and error but always moving.

**A/N: Thanks to Kassiah, who pimped NSID on Fictionators. You're the bomb, yo. And thanks to all my fun readers and reviewers. I'm glad you're enjoying the sweet and the swoon. **

**I failed to get the teaser out yesterday. Oops. I will put the chapter 18 teaser up later today. I am going camping tomorrow and will not be back until Monday, which means no update Friday and quite possibly no update Monday depending on when I get home and how gross I am, how tired, etc. Have a great weekend! I'll see you next week!**


	18. Chapter 18 Cap

**Playlist: Hot by Avril Lavigne**

**Word Prompt:** **Cap**

**Chapter 18**

Last summer Bella and I spent a lot of time together keeping our game in tune. She'd pitch, and I'd spend time scooping up grounders and absorbing the impact of line drives. It was fun, like always.

There was a moment when a group of older guys—college by the looks of them—walked past us, catcalling to Bella. She was in some short running shorts and a tank. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it drew their attention. She was just Bella to me, had always been that. But in that moment, I wanted to throw a ball straight into their faces so their teeth would come falling out.

I thought it was anger. I wanted to protect my friend, but now I know different. It was jealousy. Which I'd never felt before over any girl I'd dated. But now, now I felt it.

I _am_ feeling it.

Coach's grand idea of bunting our way to State didn't work out and our team fell short by three points, so we're out of the playoffs. But there is some good news. Dad came to a game, and the girls' team has had two shut out games this week and only two more to go before State. I think Bella's right; they'll go all the way.

She's just completed the second game of the week, and everyone's congratulating her. Guys from the other school swarm the field, and I swear they're all checking her out. It's disgusting the way their eyes wander her body, how their fingers twitch by their sides like they want to get their hands on her. One guy even adjusted himself when she took off her cap and pulled her hair out of its ponytail. Men are pigs. Jealous pigs.

And I'm one of them.

"I don't even want them looking at you," I say later on in her room. She's not listening, though. She flings her leg over mine and kisses my neck. She tugs at the hem of my shirt, and I pull it up awkwardly since we're lying on our sides. I nearly hit her with my elbow but apologize quickly.

"It's okay." She leans over the top of me, kissing my chest.

"One guy was staring at your ass."

Bella shoots up and sucks in a dramatic breath. "You should hit him."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yeah, you're cute jealous."

"I don't want to be jealous," I say, throwing my arm over my face. It's embarrassing. This is Bella. I know she'll be faithful. Still, I don't want jerks leering at her.

"Then don't be. You don't have anything to be jealous about."

My nipple is suddenly cold and hard. I peek out from under my forearm. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I don't talk, I do."

"Fine."

I sit up abruptly and suck on her neck, causing her to squirm on top of me. I want to feel her skin, so I unbutton my old JV jersey. She doesn't say anything, just smiles. It's bold, not shy at all. This doing thing works.

So I _do_ a few more things, and my jealousy subsides because I'm the only one that gets to do them.

**-NSID-**

Friday evening I follow Katie's advice—showing Charlie how polite I can be. I walk to Bella's to pick her up in front of her house. I knock on her door and everything. Charlie answers with a glare and nods down the hall toward Bella's room.

She comes out just as I get to her door. She's startled, hand on her chest, breathing heavily. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry," I say, trying not to laugh. I have a surge of memories of the summer Garrett convinced me that scaring Bella every chance I got would be the most fun thing ever. It was fun. Until she punched me in the gut and wouldn't play with me for a week. I promised never to scare her again after that.

She glares and points her finger in my face.

"Hey, I didn't mean to. Bella, come on," I say as she sidesteps me, grabbing her bag off the kitchen counter.

Charlie has a satisfied grin on his face as Bella passes him before leaving without me. I have to follow though because she's driving. I need a new car.

"You coming?" she asks without looking.

"Have fun, kid," he calls to her and then looks at me "And you—"

"I know. Don't touch. Be nice."

"I was gonna say good luck. She's in a mood now." He snickers at my expense. Great.

I close the door behind me. Bella's already in her car, engine running, waiting for me.

So much for my plans to be polite in front of her dad and open her car door and whatever. I hop inside, my legs scrunched up behind the dash, and get buckled.

She pulls out silently and comes to a complete stop at the end of the sidewalk. Shoot, I think she's really mad, so I voice my concern. "Are you really—"

My words are caught when Bella launches herself at me, crushing her mouth to mine. She tastes like mint and smells of sweet vanilla, her arms wrapping around my neck. I have no idea what's going on which means I should probably talk to her, but my tongue is busy at the moment. She smoothes her hands into my hair and works her mouth down my neck, sucking there.

Why do we have to go on a date? Why can't we go to my house? Dad's already left for dinner with Mom.

Bella slows her pace and pulls away, smoothing her thumb over her lip. "I'm not mad. At all. I didn't want my dad being all . . . fatherly. I figure if he thinks I'm mad at you he'll be less likely to think we're busy trying to grope each other later."

"Is that what we'll be doing? Groping each other?" I ask smugly. I hope so. Sounds good to me.

She doesn't say anything, just rolls her eyes. "So, where to?' she asks, finally making the turn onto the main road.

"The Grind."

"Oh, good," she says, pulling her hand through her hair. It's down and wavy. Pretty.

"Why do you sound relieved?"

"I don't know. I was worried, I guess."

"About what?"

"I don't know. That you'd try to impress me, take me somewhere fancy. I debated wearing a skirt."

"You own a skirt?"

She hits me and laughs with a "shut up."

"Why would I take you somewhere you'd hate, making you wear something you'd hate?"

"I don't know. Couples do weird things like that."

"Well, let's not be weird, okay?"

"Okay."

"Let's be us," I suggest.

"Okay."

I slide my hand into hers on the console and rub my thumb over hers. It feels funny. She's wearing sparkly red polish.

"Aw, you got pretty for me, Swan."

"If you keep up this teasing, you'll be playing _ball_ all by yourself tonight."

I bark out a laugh, and she joins me. This is so easy, this flow we have, this friendship. Why didn't we do this sooner?

Our conversation is ball this and ball that. We chat about her upcoming games and the competition. She's up against some tough girls, and she knows it. But she beat them last year, so I remind her of this.

When we arrive at the restaurant, I frantically try to get out from my seat so I can open her car door, but my spider legs are no match for her clown car. It's she who opens my door, laughter flowing from her. This is humiliating, and I know she knows it. Even so, I can't help it and chuckle as well.

"I don't like that you know me so well."

"Why's that?" she asks, tucking herself into my side.

"Because it's so easy to make fun of me."

"Well, don't be so easy then."

"That's not what you wanted last night."

She stops, and her cheeks pink. I kiss her in the parking lot and tug her along, whistling as I go.

The Grind is a burger place, but it's sorta gourmet with grass fed beef and sweet potato fries. Everything I've ever eaten there is delicious, and the price tag's not bad either.

Bella stuffs herself with sweet potato fries and yells at me when I dip them in ketchup. I pay her no attention, except to argue with her. "It's a fry. It's a rule. Fry. Ketchup. That's it. That's how it goes. It's like Bella. Edward. See?"

"How did you get so cute?" she asks, propping her elbows on the table and planting her chin on her fists.

"You think I'm cute?" I swipe another fry, dip it in ketchup, and pop it into my mouth.

"Not when you're doing that. You've always been a ketchup hound. Gran Swan used to always say—"

"Less dip, more veggies."

"Yeah." She smiles softly and plays with her earrings nervously, staring at me while I finish up the fries.

"What?" I ask, getting self conscious as she keeps her eyes on me, never diverting.

"You were always super cute, even in grade school, but somewhere along the way you turned into this, and I never thought I'd have a chance."

"Why's that?" I ask, loving this reveal.

"Hair connection."

"Hair connection's relatively new."

"The name is new, but they've been around since you started high school, Edward."

"No, they haven't. I didn't even have my first girlfriend until sophomore year, and that just sort of happened." Heather Gentry gave me a hug after a ball game and then kissed me at a bbq afterward. We went out for four weeks.

"Well, they've been following you around like hounds. And even if they weren't brave enough to ask you out, they were brave enough to talk about you behind your back. I don't think there's a single girl our year who hasn't talked about Number Seventeen's cute butt."

"Well, none of that matters. Not anymore," I state matter of fact.

She smiles at this. "You're right. Sometimes it's just hard to believe."

"I know what you mean."

The waitress brings our check, and I pay. As we leave, Bella leans into my side, and I throw my arm around her. She wraps her hand around my lower back and swipes lower, pinching my butt.

"Hey," I bellow, but she laughs, making no excuse or apology. None's needed. I liked it.

I also like how she speeds home with determination because she knows my dad's not there.

My room's quiet except for our breathing. Soft light from the moon stripes the bed Bella lounges on. She's kicked off her shoes, her neon lightning socks taunting me beneath her jeans. I want to feel up her legs. I do, but only atop the dark denim she wears. It's not enough. It's never enough. I think she's frustrated, too. She wriggles beside me, trying to get closer and failing. Our clothes are too cumbersome. As I'm ready to make a request, I remember that Bella _does_. She doesn't talk about these things, so I take that tactic, sliding my hand to her waist and unbuttoning her jeans.

She looks directly into my eyes and blinks, then nods furiously, earning a grin from my lips. I tug her jeans down, and she does the same to me and wow! This is so much better as her body slides against mine, and I can push against her and grab at bare flesh. Bella flesh.

My mouth lingers on her skin, pushing up a sleeve to get to shoulder freckles, lifting up the hem to tickle her stomach, and finally sweeping across her thighs. Her body's coiled tight, her thigh muscles clenched until I lean back up and over her telling her I love her. She kisses me and wraps her legs around my waist, clawing at my back, forcing me closer.

I'm close, and she is, too, I think, though I haven't touched her. She kisses me hungrily, moving with me as I grind. She feels so good beneath me, and I want to feel more.

"Edward," she says, voice quiet against my neck. "Can you—I want . . ."

I always thought dirty talk would be hot. Maybe it is. I haven't experienced it. But this, Bella unable to tell me what she wants but knowing what she wants, is setting me ablaze. I'm trying desperately to keep myself together but also keep her going, too.

"Bella, what? Tell me." I kiss her neck and run my hand beneath her shirt above her underwear. She hitches her leg higher, pushes against me and moans. Soft puffs of hot air dance across my skin. I must've done something right.

"Hands. I want hands," she whispers.

I give her what she wants.

**-NSID-**

Fully clothed with goofy grins on our faces, we chow down on the mint chocolate chip I bought her earlier today. I had to ride my bike to the grocery store to get it. I'm a good boyfriend like that. Plus, I needed grapes to freeze.

"Your hair looks insane," I say, laughing as she tries to smooth it down.

"Shut up. It's your fault," she says, pushing me with her feet until I'm off the bed.

I peek over the side and laugh as she tries to comb it with her fingers. It doesn't help.

"Shut up," she says again through laughter.

"You love it, I know. All of it," I say, waiting for her line, hoping she'll deliver.

"Never said I didn't."

I search through my closet to find her a hat she can wear. She tucks her hair beneath it and licks at her spoon. I gaze at my jean clad, knee socked, baseball hat wearing girl. "I love you in my hats."

"You know you're not getting your other one back, right?"

"I'm not?"

"Nope. Mine."

"And how does that work?" I ask, grinning.

"It's a rule. Edward's hat. Bella's. That's it. That's how it goes." She climbs onto my lap and feeds me her ice cream. I am so gone, it's ridiculous. And while I don't care for mint chocolate chip, I couldn't be happier.

**A/N: ****I missed you.**** Did you miss me? Or, better yet, did you miss them? My next update will be Friday. Next week I'll be back to a normal schedule.  
**

**Special thanks to Kassiah who gives these dorks a shout out nearly every Friday on The Fictionators. You're awesome, babe!**


	19. Chapter 19 Concede Defeat

**Playlist: Weightless by All Time Low**

**Plot Generator—Binding Blurb:** **conceding defeat.**

**Chapter 19**

Flick. Flick. Flick.

My ear pricks with pain, an annoying tap, tapping on my lobe. I slam my hand to it to make it stop, and it does. But then my nose itches.

"Stop," I moan, swatting the air in front of my face only to hit something.

"Morning, pervert," Garrett coos right in my ear, blowing his hot, stinky breath inside.

I hate his wake-up calls. I'd take Katie barging in, asking me a million questions any day.

"Go away!" I roll over, tugging my sheet with me, but he throws it up and off like a jackass. "Dammit, I'm tired. Stop it!"

"I know you're tired. You were up late last night, lover boy."

"Shut up," I say, placing my pillow over my legs to act as a makeshift sheet.

"So you got some game, Oops. Who knew? Not me, since I never taught you."

"You never taught me anything worthwhile. Now, go away."

Garrett jumps onto my bed, snatches my pillow, and tucks it under his head when he lies beside me. His legs take up so much space. I shove him, but he doesn't budge.

"So Bella's pretty loud. That's hot. I like screamers," he says, nonchalant.

"What!" I bolt upright and stare at him.

"Oh, you didn't know? I got in early last night, had dinner with Katie and Greg. They got me drunk; Greg dropped me off. Right. Before. You. Got. Home."

"I'm gonna kill you," I growl.

"Good luck with that." He pops up and sucker punches me in the gut.

I spring into action and chase him through the door and hall into the kitchen where I begin chucking my bowl and utensil from last night's dessert at him. "You're such an ass," I shout.

"And I can see yours," he says, and like a fool I check only to find my boxers on where I left them. When I lift my head I'm clobbered with a rolled up magazine.

"Oh, yeah, like that," he says in a high voice.

"Shut up!" I bellow, fuming.

"If only you were as sexy as Garrett," he says, voice still in a falsetto.

"You're an idiot. No wonder you can never keep a girl!"

He drops his magazine-wielding hand, which was ready to strike again, and narrows his eyes. I've gone too far.

"I'm gonna go tell Bella right now what you said about her boobs when she was twelve."

"I didn't say anything," I protest.

"Oh, so, flat as a board and will never grow bigger than an ant bite, doesn't ring any bells?"

That's it. The bastard's going down. "I hope you never find another Lauren!"

Garrett lopes toward me, and I swerve around furniture, trying to get away from him. This is going to hurt. I can tell by the menacing look in his eyes. I toss an end table in his way when Dad barks, "What the hell are you morons doing? It's eight in the morning!"

He's in his boxers and an undershirt. His eyes are clouded in dark circles, and he's scruffy. Neither one of us can think of anything to say to our pathetic looking father, so we stay quiet.

"Why are you here, Garrett?"

"Sunday dinner," he says.

"It's cancelled. Mom's not coming," Dad says.

"Aw, Dad," I say on instinct.

He doesn't scold me or even flinch. He nods minutely, scratches his beard and turns slowly, backing into his room.

Garrett reaches over and smacks my head. I throw my arms out wide in protest.

"Go talk to him," he demands.

"You."

"I didn't do this; you did."

"Mom did," I say.

"Well, she's not here."

"That's not my fault." I have no desire to talk to my dad. What would I even say?

"Not mine either."

Garrett puts his fist out, and we roshambo. I lose with paper.

I knock on Dad's door. No answer. "I'm coming in," I say, opening the door slowly. Dad's lying down; Mom's side of the bed is made up perfectly, just the way she'd like it if she were here.

I want to dig into my dad. I know this is his fault. Whatever it is. But I know I need to be compassionate here. But how? What should I do? I think on it for a minute, wondering what Bella would do and come up with. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't answer, so I look to Garrett, who's standing in the doorway, for some help. He's irritated by what I said. I'd like to see him try.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I hedge further.

He waits a minute. Then: "Yeah, actually. Can you tell your mother I love her, and I'm sorry?" He rubs his eyebrow and drags his hand over his face, absolutely desolate.

"What's going on? You should tell her, Dad. Mom needs to hear it from you."

"Yeah, well, she won't. Not anymore. She's filing."

"For divorce?" Garrett asks, and Dad nods.

"You can't let her do this. You'll both regret it," I blurt.

"I don't want it anymore than you do," Dad says. He sounds like he's bored, like he's talking investments or politics. I want to scream in his face to wake him up, so I do.

"Then why are you here? Go to her. Beg her. Get on your knees and cry on her toes while kissing her feet."

Dad sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Someday you'll understand, Edward. There's a time when you just have to concede defeat."

I'm livid. My eyes burn with unshed tears. My Dad's a fool, an unfeeling automaton. He doesn't deserve Mom then. "I can't believe this," I say, and without glancing back I leave the room.

Garrett doesn't let me get far, trapping me in the hallway. "It's not all his fault."

"Like hell it isn't!" I yell, not caring if Dad can hear. "Mom spent all that time raising us, going to every awards' assembly, band concert, game, and what did Dad do?"

"He kept food on the table by making good money. He did it for us."

"Bullshit. He hid in his office behind medicine and patients and published studies and for what? He's lost his wife, his family. I barely even know him. He didn't do it for us. He did it for himself. For prestige. For honor. Well, I'm not going to honor that." I'm breathing heavy, my shoulders shaking with tension.

Suddenly, Garrett's in my face, seething. "He's hurting, and you're turning your back on him. You've never been in love the way he has. You've never put so much time and effort into someone only to have it thrown back in your face and told you're not enough."

"Yes, I have." I know I have.

"Like hell. You've liked Bella for two minutes. Dad's been at this for decades," Garrett retorts.

"Then he should know better; he should do better."

"Who the hell are you to judge?" he rages.

"Who the hell are you? Like you've ever been in love. Like you've ever experienced anything like this." He hasn't. He only cares about himself. Always has.

"The love of my life dumped my ass years ago, and I can't get over her, so don't tell me I don't know! And Dad's right. Sometimes you have to know when to give up."

"You're crazy! You're both crazy. Don't you get it? There is no giving up. Not when it's love. No wonder Lauren's moved on and Mom, for that matter. Why would they wait around for men who don't think they're worth fighting for, who can't see that if they'd change just a smidge it could work, that it could last? I feel sorry for you both!" I storm out, grabbing my car keys only to realize I'm mostly naked, and I have no car. I slip through the side gate and sneak on some of my dad's filthy yard work clothes that were left outside before heading to Bella's. I sit with Sandy, hoping someone will wake up and let me in.

After a while, I hear some movement in the house, and then the back door squeaks open. It's Charlie.

"You look like hell." He eyes his coffee then me and offers me his cup.

"No thanks," I mutter.

"I'm gonna make some eggs," he says and lures me into his house.

He doesn't force me to talk, and the eggs are good.

"Not bad for a bachelor, eh?" he asks.

"They're decent. Bella's here, right?" I ask.

"Yeah, sleeping in, though. Nothing I should be suspicious about?"

"No, sir."

"That's what I like to hear," he says, spreading out a week-old newspaper.

"What would you tell me to do if I said I was giving up on Bella and me?" I ask hypothetically.

He schools his face, making it neutral, before saying, "You're an idiot."

"Right."

"Because you're in love with her," he continues.

"I am. I _so_ am." I look up suddenly, realizing I just confessed my love for his daughter. I smile sheepishly. "I'm not giving up on her. Not even close. I just . . . my dad is gonna lie down and let my mom divorce him. I don't know what to do. It's not right. He loves her. Why would he give up?"

"Pride," Charlie says quickly. "Some men learn sooner than others, I suppose. But mostly—I think anyway, I don't have a lot of experience—it seems to me that if you leave your pride at the door, you'll be okay."

I take in his words and listen as he speaks freely. This is probably the most I've heard Charlie Swan say since the time he caught me trying to get into his gun cabinet. That lecture went on for days.

"My dad was a good father, but an even better husband. You know what his secret was?"

I look up from my eggs, wondering what it could be.

"Yes, dear. That's all. It was yes, dear. Just like that. He used to tell me, 'Son, you do what she wants, and you'll be all right. If she tells you to take out the trash, you do it. If she tells you she wants money for a dress, you get it. If she tells you, you're wrong, you are. The response is all the same, yes, dear.'"

"And did you follow that advice?" I ask, wondering since he's divorced.

"Yep, sure did. Renee and I were happy for a while, but she wanted more. And when she wanted more away from me, I said 'yes, dear' and gave her her freedom."

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret it? No. I miss her. I love her. But the important thing is she's happy. She didn't want to be shackled down with kids and a husband. It wasn't for her. And she's done so well for herself." He's genuine, even smiling when he speaks of his ex-wife.

"Do you wish you'd have tried harder to keep her with you?"

"No. I tried. I fought, I cried, I begged, but in the end, she knew what she wanted. Who was I to stand in the way? It wasn't about me; it was about her."

"How do you know that's really what she wanted?"

"When you're in love, Edward, you know. You know when it's time to walk away and when it's time to fight." He takes a sip of his coffee and sets his cup on top of his paper. It's so opposite of my dad with his crisp New York Times and special brewed coffee.

"That makes sense," I say, then add, "So what do I do?"

"I don't know. And you can't possibly know. It's not your love, your marriage."

"Nope, it's not." I drop my head to the table, taking a deep breath.

Charlie stands, takes my empty plate, and pats my back. "The best you can do is set a good example and learn from this."

"Yeah," is all I can say. "Do you know where Bella's laptop is?" I ask. Charlie points to the couch.

"I'm jumping in the shower," he says. "I don't know when Bella'll be up, but you're welcome to stay, kid."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"You're welcome. It's fun having someone around who listens. Bella likes to nod and pretend like she's listening, but she isn't," he says, disappointed.

"I don't know about that." I move to the couch and pop open the laptop.

"Why's that?"

"You know she got accepted to Northern, right? Closer to home. Cheaper. Good program. I'm guessing your idea," I say.

"Maybe." He shrugs, smiling. "Where're you going?"

"Got accepted to the U."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't have an answer yet," I say and turn my attention to the laptop. I don't want to tell him what I'm thinking of doing, although I suspect he knows.

"Fair enough," he says, blessedly leaving it at that. He meanders down the hall, and his door closes with a soft click.

The computer buzzes to life, and I zoom in on Northern College's page for program degrees. I click on their school of engineering, find an academic advisor, and shoot off an email. Once I get the okay, I'll send in an application. With any luck, if Bella asks me the question, will you follow me to school? I can answer with certainty, yes, dear.

**-NSID- **

After cleaning myself up a bit in the bathroom and finding an extra toothbrush, I'm stuck on the couch. I survey the room, bored out of my mind but not willing to go home. Just as I'm about to click on the TV, socked feet shuffle down the hallway, and I can't keep my smile at bay. How does she do that? Make me happy just by being there?

"Hey, I thought I heard you," Bella says, putting her hair into a ponytail and heading to the kitchen.

She gets a glass of water and sits beside me, settling in, drawing her socked feet beneath her. They're teal skulls on solid black today.

"So what's with the gardening clothes?" She taps my leg and takes a sip of her drink. She sets it down on the coffee table and turns to finally look me in the eyes.

She worries her lip. "What happened?" she asks, hand on my cheek.

I lean into her touch and allow my shoulders to relax. "Mom's done."

Bella shakes her head, her lips forming a small pout. I keep my eyes on her until I can't bear it any longer and fold inward. She keeps me from crumbling and brings me into her chest, encasing me in her arms.

"I'm so sorry," she keeps saying, her words tickling my ears and pricking my heart.

She maneuvers us on the couch so we're lying down. She's wrapped around me, our hands on my heart, letting it beat through the pain.

Hours later, she's swept my useless body into her room where she finds me something to wear: tight basketball shorts and an old tank I'd left here unbeknownst to me. When she pulls it out, she smiles shyly and scrunches her nose up, admitting, "I'm a bit of a Cullen thief."

"I know. You've stolen my heart."

"That's awful," she says, laughing when I burst, too. "Don't be so cheesy." She punches my arm, and I draw her in for a long hug. She props her chin on my chest, looking into my eyes. "You'll be okay, you know."

"I know." I nod minutely, staring out her window to spy her messy backyard. Sandy's sitting under a dying tree, flopping her tail back and forth.

"Come on." She pulls me to her bed and sprawls out beside me, running her hand through my hair. "You can talk about it if you want."

"What's there to say?"

"I don't know. We could just talk about them."

"Whatever."

She gives me a stern look but doesn't chastise me other than that. "Remember when Gran died and I couldn't leave the house for two weeks?"

"Yes, I missed you so much. And you had already cut your outdoor playing in half once Gran really got sick. That was rough. And you were so sad. I had no idea what to say."

"You said all the right things."

"I did?"

"Yeah. You reminded me about all the fun things we did together: how she would make us playdough and those Jell-O popsicles, and how she'd walk us to the park but let us ride a street ahead. I just needed to be reminded that I didn't miss out on anything. I had all these great memories. And, Edward, you have great memories of your parents. Things will be different now, but they _were_ happy."

"They were. I miss it. The laughter and silliness. My mom's constant eye rolling and her way of getting Dad to shut up when he was boring us at the dinner table. 'Carlisle, pass the—'"

"'Peas.' It took me forever to figure that out. There were not always peas on that table. They're such dorks, if you think about it."

"No, they had their own language."

"Yeah, it's sweet."

"You are so nice," I say, pulling her hands from my hair and tucking them into my chest.

"I just care."

"I know. I'm so glad." I reach out to stroke her cheek, and she leans toward me, kissing me and collapsing into my shoulder. I wrap her in my arms and squeeze her tight. "Let's never give up, okay?"

"Deal," she says, kissing my chest and snuggling against me.

**-NSID-**

After I spend most of my Saturday hiding at Bella's, I return home. Garrett's still there, unfortunately. With a quick call from Katie I learn that one, Mom's been crying on Katie's couch all day. Two, Garrett was not here last night like he said he was, the asshole. And three, we're having family dinner no matter what, instituting Gran's rule about going unless you're dying. Katie even hoodwinks Bella into it, too. I feel bad for her, but I'm glad she'll be at my side through this freak show we Cullens like to call family dinner.

Come Sunday, Katie makes us a simple roasted chicken with boxed mashed potatoes that taste like nothing. As suspected the garden's dead and nothing's growing except for weeds, so we can't glean any veggies from there. Mom's here, though, so I'm not going to complain about dinner.

I keep quiet unless I'm spoken to and play with Caleb because he's safe. In fact, most people, Dad and Garrett included, seem to be aiming their attention and words toward Caleb. Why can't we all stay little and oblivious and happy? Life is so easy when all you worry about is what toy to play with and whether or not your mom has time to snuggle with you after dinner.

"I like to snuggle Mommy," Caleb tells Dad as they put together a simple puzzle.

"Your mommy was a snuggler when she was your age, too," Dad says, "But she liked to snuggle mostly with your grandma. I like to snuggle with your grandma, too."

Mom gives Caleb a soft look, but her eyes are sad, like she wants to cry but is holding back for the sake of this innocent kid. I point this out to Bella, and she agrees. Our theory's proven when she leaves a few minutes later, eyes brimming with tears.

Bella goes next, leaving me with a kiss and a hug on my back porch. I don't want her to go, but we've got school tomorrow and she has practice—two big games this week before she tackles State.

When I get inside, Katie's at the sink with Caleb sitting beside her on the countertop. She's washing dishes, and Greg's putting away extra chairs and generally cleaning up. Garrett and Dad are doing nothing. What's wrong with the men in my family? Why do they act this way?

"Come on, buddy, let's build something," I say, holding Caleb to my chest.

"Thanks, Edward," Katie says with a smile, looking more relaxed. It feels good to help out.

"You looked busy." I return her smile.

I set Caleb beside me, and we stack blocks into a high tower. Garrett knocks it over with his big foot and a smirk. "You gotta be better than that if you're going to be an engineer. You'll only last a week at the U if you're that pathetic."

"I may not be going to the U," I say causally.

Dad perks up but doesn't say anything.

"Where do you want to go?" Greg asks as he settles beside me, the silverware case in his hands, putting utensils away.

"I'm looking into Northern. Waiting to see if I can even still apply."

Greg looks to Katie, and the two exchange a look and a grin.

"You guys are creepy the way you communicate without communicating. It's, like, alien," Garrett says.

"You're an alien," Katie quips.

"What's at Northern?" Garrett asks, and frankly I'm surprised he cares enough to ask.

"A solid engineering program," I admit. At least, that's what Google and some forums said.

"They have that at the U. As evidenced." He swipes a hand in front of himself.

"Well, they might have a good engineering program, but they don't have a Bella."

"Aww," Katie says from the confines of the kitchen.

Garrett says nothing.

Eventually, we all go our separate ways, and I retreat to my room. I pull up my email and discover I can, in fact, apply to Northern. I stay up especially late filling out online forms and writing an entry essay. I don't want to put it off. If there's a chance I can be with Bella, I'll take it.

Monday morning dawns. I'm running late, so I eat a protein bar on my porch while I wait for Bella.

I get settled into her car, and as we show up to school, I receive a text from Garrett.

_I called Lauren. She said she was "happy to hear from me." Maybe . . ._

"Maybe," I repeat aloud.

"Maybe what?" Bella asks, curious and smiling softly. I lean over and kiss her because I can and because I'm in a damn better mood than I have been since we made out Friday night.

"Maybe it'll all work out," I say.

And my beautiful girl in basketball shorts and black heart and flame covered knee socks says, "Of course it can work out." And I believe her wholeheartedly.


	20. Chapter 20 Hose

**Playlist: You Make Me Happy by Cathy Heller**

**Word Prompt****: Hose **

**Chapter 20**

After Bella's practice we head to my house to snack and do homework. As we pass through the hallway side by side, Bella stops to check out some old family photos. Katie in braces, Garrett in his graduation cap and gown, me holding my MVP from freshman year when I was on the JV team.

"You were so skinny," she says, smoothing her finger down the frame.

"So were you," I remind her. I remember those little chicken legs running around the field.

"So was everyone. Every girl was so infatuated with you then. Cheryl Hayworth stuffed for you that year. You remember her?"

"Who?"

"Cheryl. Curly hair, glasses, used to always wear—"

"Oh, yeah. She was the one with those loud bracelets. We sat next to each other in freshman English. I could never concentrate; she was so jangly. She stuffed for me?"

Bella makes eye contact, and I'm embarrassed that she's caught me looking proud. Hey, that's exciting, girls trying to enhance themselves for me.

"Did you ever . . ."

"Do I look like I stuff?" Bella sticks out her chest, and I examine her thoroughly, sneaking a finger down the collar of her tee to take a peek.

"Looks natural to me."

"I can't believe you just looked at my boobs to prove that."

"Hey, it sounded like an open invitation. Who am I to pass that up?"

"It could be misconstrued as insensitive that you would even need to check, considering . . ." She raises an eyebrow. All I can do is grin like an idiot. I know Bella's boobs are real. It's factual. I know from my experience with them. Yay, me! "But then again, insensitivity runs in the male DNA in this family."

"I'm trying to break the laws of science and be the black sheep."

"Well, bravo." We share a moment of silence looking up and down the photos. Bella stops in front of a studio shot of my mom taken in her early twenties. "She's so pretty."

"My mom's amazing. I wouldn't be surprised if she remarried within a month. Who wouldn't want her? What's to complain about? She's smart, she's funny, she's attentive, she cooks, she looks nice, she dresses nice. I mean how many moms do we know that wear those nasty high-waist mom jeans? My mom still shops at Gap."

"I wish there was a way we could make him remember."

"Remember what? That he loves her? He knows." I slide down the wall, spreading my legs out so they touch the opposite wall.

Bella joins me on the ground, her slightly salty after-practice smell makes me miss ball already. Only I wish I could smell as mild as she does after practice.

"No, I mean, I want him to remember what he was like when they were young and carefree and he didn't have bills to pay or mouths to feed. When it was just the two of them. Hell, in a few months, it could be. They'd be free of kids; they could do whatever they wanted. It's every married couples' dream, right? To play and travel and make love all day once all the kids are gone?

"Let's just skip to that. No kids, no mortgages, just fun."

Bella smiles, her eyes squinting as she regards me. "You're kind of a romantic, huh?"

"Maybe. A little bit. Why? Do you like it?"

"I think I need it. I was raised by Charlie. Everything's so practical. I think I need that balance."

I swipe her hand off her lap and lace our fingers together while searching the frames above me. There's a single frame housing three photos. One with Mom and Dad on a bench. He's fully decked out in his baseball uniform. He was sixteen there, I think. Mom and Dad at their wedding reception, kissing. And last, my dad's got his arms wrapped around mom's waist while she's cooking. She's spoon feeding him over her shoulder, their smiles outrageously wide. I miss my parents. I haven't seen them that way in years. A few, at least.

"My mom's romantic," Bella says quietly, calmly. "Every time I visit her she has to pull out her albums and go over her love affair with Dad. She pores over the photos and smiles wistfully at each one even though her hair looks so stupid. I can't get past the hair. I know it's shallow, but sue me. Besides, every daughter's supposed to think her mother's hair is stupid, right?"

"You are so cute," I say, and she swats my stomach with our joined hands. "But that's not a bad idea. Maybe I can get them to think about their beginnings, when they first fell in love, had a first kiss, first dance. I'm not sure how anyone can forget those things."

"Me neither. Edward, our first kiss was . . . besides the after part . . . I will always, always, always long for that feeling."

I lean my head against the wall and swing it so our eyes meet. "Yeah?"

She nods, and her eyes dart to my lips.

"Should we reenact—"

"Shut up," she mumbles as she climbs onto my lap and presses her lips to mine. She yanks my hat off my head and fists my hair all while pushing down deliciously with her hips.

"I don't quite remember it like that," I say quietly.

"Who cares?"

"Not me. I don't care one bi—"

"Shut u—" This time I close my lips over her mouth to keep her quiet.

**-NSID-**

Tuesday afternoon I'm crammed in Bella's mini-mobile, hauling ass to get my dad to play hooky from work. Something drastic needs to happen here, and who else can do it? It can't hurt to try.

I pull into his office and wrench the door open to find some big haired, loud mouthed new secretary who has no idea who I am. "Sir, you can't just . . . Dr. Cullen's with a patient." She follows me into the hallway.

"He's the patient now," I mumble, knocking on exam room one. "Dad." No answer. I bang this time, calling out again. "Your son's here. He needs to see you."

The door opens and a small, older lady with purplish hair and massive glasses shuffles out. "You keep taking that medication, Gladys."

"What?" she crows, turning and cupping her ear.

"Nice seeing you, Gladys," he says, this time a little louder.

"You, too, sonny. Glad you're closer than my grandson. Shannon was making me see him for my arthritis, but I told her Dr. Cullen was closer and cuter." She pats his cheek. "But I suppose if he brought his practice here, I wouldn't mind it. You got room for a young laser-wielding doc?" She doesn't wait for Dad's response and barrels on. "He's all the way out there on the freeway. I can't drive out there. I'll die on the road. And I can't be his only client. If I am, then he's not a very good doctor, is he?" She turns her eyes on Dad, and he smiles. She nods her head, already forgetting that he should say something, I guess.

Gladys takes a while to get out of our way. Her mothball smelling bag brushes against me as she goes. Once she does, I pull Dad into the room myself and shut the door. "I have an idea. For Mom."

"Edward . . ." he says, defeated, closing his eyelids with his thumb and middle finger as though pronouncing himself dead.

"She hasn't filled out the papers yet, Dad. You still have a chance. Take it."

"What were you thinking?" he asks, and I dive into my plan.

**-NSID-**

Dad and I pull up to Mom's office, and I head inside. The vibe here is so different than Dad's office: women happily chatting, clicking away at keyboards, a man in dress pants, but no tie, sipping on a Coke while taking a call. "Hey, it's Esme's pride and joy! Hi, Edward. So good to meet you."

"Hi," I say, shaking hands with . . .

"Siobhan. She's making copies. Right back here." She leads me through a narrow hallway filled with bright motivational posters. The whole place smells of coffee and doughnuts. I'm hungry.

Mom's stapling some packets together and fitting them into crisp new folders. "You have a visitor."

"Shoot. Mr. Cohen is early. I'll be right out."

Siobhan nudges me with an elbow. "He's really irate. Said you'd have those for him by three, and it's four now."

"I never said that. I strictly said—" Mom shoots her head up in exasperation until she sees me and a wide grin takes over her face. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm kidnapping you. Bella has a game. Come cheer her on. There's only two more, and that's only if she wins this and the next."

"Siobhan, do you think—"

"Get out of here. I'll handle that crappy Mr. Cohen. And then I'll take him out to dinner." Mom rolls her eyes. "Hey, if you won't accept his invitation, I will." She leaves us alone in the copy room.

"Mom, are you . . ."

"No, I'm not. He asked me out, and I told him I was separated and definitely not dating."

"Okay, good."

"I would never do that to your father. I know this must be hard for you to understand but . . ." Mom runs her hand over my head, patting it down in the back with a frown on her face. "I'm exhausted, honey. I can't be the only one trying anymore."

"I know, Mom. I agree. And you deserve the best. You both do. I mean, Dad wasn't always like this, right? He paid lots of attention to you when you first started dating. I remember you guys always chasing each other around the yard when Dad would wash the car."

"He never could resist spraying me with that hose. You know that's how he got my attention. His team was having a fundraiser. A car wash. I walked by and whoosh! All wet. I could not believe how rude he was. And how cute." She smiles on, wistfully looking out the small window in the room.

"You need your stuff?"

"Just my purse."

Mom makes some quick arrangements and grabs her bag before following me out. I'm waiting for the fallout when she sees Dad outside holding her door open, but she doesn't say anything. In fact, when she gets in, she smiles at me, shaking her head minutely, like I'm sly or something. Well, I try.

**-NSID-**

We get ourselves a few dogs and sodas and set up in the bleachers. The game's already started and things are looking good. Dad's talking to Mom, and Bella's shutting out the opposing team. With her final strike of the inning, the crowd goes wild, including one Jacob Black who's seated near the front. I'm howling right along with him, and we catch each other's eyes and share a nod.

After the third inning, Charlie shows up, ruffled and late from a full day of work. Things are looking good for Mom and Dad, who are sharing a messy snow cone and giggling, so I wave him away. He sits on his own, but he seems content with his nachos.

When I spy my parents holding hands, I'm in utter shock. Is it really this simple? I don't know, and I don't care. It looks good, so I move away to give them space and end up next to Jake.

"She's so good," he says, shaking his head. "You treating her right?'

"She'd beat me with a bat if I didn't."

"I always loved that about her."

"Your eye looks good." I snicker at my dig.

"She's got a mean right hook, so watch out for that. She doesn't need a bat for that one."

"Mmm," I murmur, trying not to laugh.

He throws his hands out wide and chuckles. "You cornered me. What was I supposed to say? You point blank asked me about my virginity."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. Bella took care of it herself. I was so excited to see her running toward me in her cute little practice outfit and then wham! Right across the cheek. If baseball doesn't work for her, she could try boxing."

"Good idea. Though I'm not sure I like the idea of watching other people hit my girlfriend."

"Eh," Jake says with a shrug. "So you're happy? Both of you?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let's get this done."

"All right," I say, and he offers me a fist bump before cheering on our team again.

**-NSID-**

"Go, Bella! One more! One more!" Charlie yells roughly from high up.

My voice is hoarse from all my shouting as well. Turns out Jake's enthusiasm is contagious, and the two of us together make up a huge portion of the cheering section for Bella. As do my parents; they holler just as much. I thought Mom was a big talker when I played, but she's really goading on these girls, trash talking as they come up to bat.

"I hope you bat better than you braid, sister. And blue's not your color," Mom scoffs as the batter takes up the box.

Dad sits beside her, shaking his head and laughing. They look happy, thank goodness. I've got to force them to ditch work and have fun more often. They're too serious.

Bella runs her fingers over the brim of her hat, her eyes concentrating ahead of her. She rolls her head and shrugs her shoulders before whipping her arm around and pitching a strike.

"That's my girl. Bella, you rock!" Mom screams and hops up. She pulls Dad up with her, and then hollers at the rest of us. "Get up, everybody make some freaking noise. Support our girls!" The crowd goes wild, stomping their feet, clapping their hands, and booing the batter. I almost feel bad for her. Almost.

Bella delivers another strike. Her eyes meet mine, and her lips pull up into the tiniest grin.

"I never had a chance," Jake mumbles, and I laugh.

"I told you she was in love with me."

"She told you?"

I tuck my hands in my pockets and shrug awkwardly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I couldn't get her to say it either."

"You love her?"

"Sure," he says, like it's no big deal. Like, of course he was in love with her. And why wouldn't he have been? Hell, they hung out essentially all year, and who knows how many dates they went on, how many times he was in her room I didn't know about.

I wish I could've known that I loved her that easily. I wish I hadn't wasted so much time without Bella. Who knows where we could be by now, or how much more in love we could be? She does love me, right?

Jake narrows his eyes and claps me on the back. "She'll say it. She does. She's just being Bella."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she weighs everything. She doesn't say things she doesn't mean. Just like she doesn't do things she doesn't mean or regret. I'm sure that's why she was never really my girlfriend. She just didn't feel that way. But with you, I see it. Damn. Right here." He draws his fingers over his eyes and wipes away a pretend tear with a pout.

"Shut up, loser. Watch the game. My girl's about to win it."

"Yeah, she is. We love you, Bella!" Jake shouts, and her shoulders shake with laughter before she pulls it together and nails her next pitch.

Strike!

She pumps her fists in front of her chest, and the girls rush her, screaming and cheering.

I holler along with everyone else, until Jake smacks my stomach. "Go get her, idiot. She loves you."

Dammit, he's right. I want on that field, and I want her in my arms. I jog down the bleachers and hop the short fence on the side before running to her. She catches my eyes through the crowd and runs toward me, leaping into my arms.

"That was amazing. Did you feel that energy? Omigosh! I'm so high right now I could do anything!" She's breathless, her cheeks pink, her skin hot and tacky to the touch. She's so damn sexy.

"You were fantastic out there. You did it!"

"Hell, yeah, she did," howls a girl behind her, and Bella gets a butt slap from her teammate. Hot.

"I did," Bella agrees, nodding and laughing, her eyes alight with happiness. I always want to see her this way, always, so I sear it in my memory and seal it with a kiss right there on the field. Even where Charlie can see from his spot in the bleachers. Oh, well.

"Good game, Bella. Come here, come here, come here," Mom squeals as she pushes me away from my girlfriend. I step back and stand next to Dad, who's smiling but looks awkward standing there in his scrubs.

They chat animatedly, and Bella chuckles loudly, calling out my mom for being mean to the other team. Mom looks innocent, and Dad and I catch each other's eyes and laugh.

"This was fun. Good idea, Edward," Dad says.

"It was sort of Bella's. She mentioned how exciting it must have been when you first fell in love. And I figured, she used to come see your games. So . . . nostalgia."

"Well, I like it. I'm gonna run with it, try to buy myself some time to win back her heart. Make sure you thank Bella for me."

"I will."

**-NSID-**

Even though Charlie offers Mom and Dad transportation home, they find their own way, and he insists I take Bella out to celebrate. He's heading straight to a poker game afterward, anyway. I'm not complaining at the dad-approved date at all.

We end up at an ice cream parlor with a few of her teammates as they recap the game. It's fun seeing her with her team. She doesn't hang out with too many girls as far as I can tell, but these girls really like her. I wonder if they may even be intimidated by her a bit, so they don't pursue a friendship beyond this. What do I know, though? I have no clue about the dynamics of girl friendships.

Bella drives us to her house, but she's so wound up she doesn't want to go home yet. We decide to walk to my house, taking the long way around. We sway our clasped hands back and forth as we talk about my parents' successful evening. It seems like everyone won tonight, including me as Bella presses me up against the front door before devouring my lips.

Damn, girl.

She climbs her hands up my chest and back down before sneaking them beneath my shirt and running them over my abs. I make a really embarrassing sound and should be horrified that I'm outside in the open, but I can't really care about that because all I want to do is get inside my room and make out with Bella and take down her fresh knee socks.

I fumble with the door and get it open. We're stumbling around and giggling as we enter, trying to keep our lips sealed. As we move down the hallway toward my room a loud groan echoes through the house. Bella pulls back and covers her face with her hands, giggling. She points over her shoulder, and we tiptoe out the back door, sneaking into her back yard.

"Oh my gosh. I don't even want to know." She opens her back door and leads me inside.

"Ew! My parents! I thought they'd go to Mom's," I squeal, taking a heavy seat on her couch and covering my head with my hands. "I should go hose them down and make them stop. Gross!"

Bella sits beside me, still giggling. She's silly tired and still high from her win, and I can't blame her, but this is disturbing.

"I'm scarred for life, Bella. I feel like I need to take a shower or something."

"Well, I could use one," she says, and my head shoots up to meet her gaze. She stands and places her foot on the edge of the couch between my legs, lowering that damn strawberry covered knee sock like it's some black lace whatchamacallems attached to garters.

She removes her foot from the couch and lifts the other, placing it between my legs and shifting it up a little higher to the apex of my thighs.

Holy hell. Bella can seduce.

I don't even have time to register what's fully happening because I'm too turned on. My brain's too stupid. All I can think is Bella. Shower. Naked. Now. Go.

So I do and she gets naked and we shower.

Dad did order me to thank her, so I did. Several times.

Best night ever.


	21. Chapter 21 Quite the Party

**Playlist: Clockwatching by Jason Mraz**

**Dialogue Flex: "I hear she throws quite the party," he said.**

**Chapter 21**

"Hi," I say, getting in the car and checking out my girl.

"Still? Really? It was on Tuesday. Come on, it's Friday."

"I can't help it. It was fun."

"Stop looking at me like that," she says as she pulls out of my driveway.

"Like what?"

"Like you've seen me naked."

"I have seen you naked."

"I wish you could see how stupid you look right now."

"You loved it." My smile is involuntary. It just happens. What can I say?

"Well, I did, but if I knew you were going to walk around campus and _my dad_ looking so obvious I never would've offered. You have no game face."

"I can't help it."

"You're stupid."

"I love you," I say and lean across the console at the light, begging for a kiss. She gives me one. "Are you freaking out yet?"

"No, I'm good. If I'm not prepared to beat Reynolds High today, I certainly won't be ready to beat them tomorrow. Oh, speaking of. So . . ." Bella tucks her hair and starts talking with her right hand animatedly. "My mom was so excited about the win yesterday, she's coming in."

"That's great!"

"She'll get here late tonight, and she's going to stay through graduation. She wants to throw me a party."

"That'll be fun."

"We talked for over an hour."

"That's rare."

"It was good. Past due. I had a lot to tell her. Girl stuff."

"Well, that's good." She's never been close to her mom since she always wanted Bella to be something she's not: girly. So this is a good change. I'm happy for Bella.

"Yeah," she says, nonchalant, but I know she's excited. She hasn't seen her mom since Christmas, and now that they're getting closer, I'm sure she'll enjoy her mother's company more than she has in the past.

**-NSID-**

I'm heading to class when my mom calls. "Edward, can you come by after school today? I need you to move some furniture."

"Sure. Why am I moving furniture?"

"Renee and I are throwing a party for graduation here. It's gonna be so fun!"

"Bella told me her mom was coming into town. Okay, well, we'll come when we're done with school."

"Thanks, honey."

At lunch I get a text from Katie. _Mom wants you to pick up these tablecloths at Target. A picture's attached.__  
_  
A few minutes later: _Oh, and this water dispenser thing._

"Who's that?" Peter asks.

"My slave driver."

"You look miserable, man," Marcus says, and Peter agrees with a head bob and a mouth full of chips.

"Mom and Katie are bossing me around. They're getting the apartment ready for a party," I say.

"Oh, your party at your mom's on grad night?" Jane asks.

"How does everyone know about this?" I ask, exasperated.

"My mom sent me an email with an invitation attached, and I forwarded it during econ," Bella says between bites of her sub.

"Ah."

"She's getting a DJ. Should be fun." Bella shrugs like its no big deal, but her grin belies the truth: she's ecstatic.

"Your mom's pretty cool," Charlotte says. "I wish my mom could throw a party like that."

"Your mom's too busy watching soaps," Peter mumbles.

"Shut up." Charlotte swats at Peter, but he catches her hand and kisses it instead. I should try that sometime since Bella's always hitting me. In fact, she's always been a bit abusive, even when we were little. A memory pops into my brain that I have to share.

"Renee threw Bella a super fun princess party when she turned ten. Bella loved it," I say, sarcasm thick. She spent half the party locked in the bathroom refusing to come out in her princess hat. When she did, I pointed and laughed, and she slugged me in the gut. Later that night we burned the hat using a grill at the park. Gran was mad when we got home late, and we both got in trouble.

Bella glares, but I smile back because it means I love you. I hope, anyway.

**-NSID-**

As I pack up my books for the weekend, Jake approaches my locker with a wide grin. Bella and I were chatting about our after school make-out-on-my-mom's-couch-all-alone plans before he interrupted us. I hate being interrupted. Even though he's nice, Jake's stupid.

"What do you want?" I ask obnoxiously. I feel like I should.

"I was gonna ask Bella if we can invite friends to Renee's shindig. I actually was hoping to avoid your ugly mug, but when she wasn't at her locker . . ."

"So sorry," I say, slamming my door.

"No, you're not."

"I'm not."

"That's fine, Jake," Bella says, placing her hand on my chest. I like that.

"You got a date?" I ask.

"Well, I hope to. I hear your mom throws quite the party," he says. "Should I bring a shield and sword to protect you, Princess Bella?"

"All right, Edward, you can hit him now," Bella says, removing her hand from my chest, like she's letting the bull out of the pen.

"You better run," I snarl.

Jake turns and bolts. Bella's laughter rings in my ears as I chase him through the hall, jump on his back, and punch his bicep.

**-NSID-**

After a trip to Target and moving the furniture according to Mom's bajillion text messages, I invite Bella to the couch. It's go time.

Once we're cozy and situated side by side, I stare at her face, taking in all her delicate features.

"You're kind of creeping me out." She squishes her cheeks together so she looks like a fish.

I shake my head, laughing. "Why?"

"Because you're looking at me."

"I look at you all the time."

"Not this close."

"Would it be better if you were on top?" I drag her body onto mine; she's in a fit of giggles.

Her knee socks draw my attention, so my hands go there, sliding up her calves to her thighs, where I wrap my hands around her ass. I lean in, but she pulls back.

"What are you doing? Kiss me," I command.

"I'm looking at my hot boyfriend."

She wraps her small hands around my face and strokes my cheeks with her thumbs, her eyes swiping over my eyes, nose, and lips. Her eyes are contemplative, like she wants to say something but won't, so I prod. "What is it?"

"I don't think we should have sex right away." Her voice is quiet but firm. She's thought a lot about this. Even so, I was not expecting that from Miss Do, Don't Talk. "I know I was being super flirty and aggressive, but I think—"

"No worries. That's fine," I say, shrugging. I'm not in any rush. I mean, if she asked me to today, I'd say yes. I'm no fool, but still.

"I just think we need to see where this goes."

"Well, it goes like this . . ." I slide my hands up her hips and secure them onto her waist. I plunge my face into her cleavage and inhale her vanilla scent before craning my head up to see her eyes as I speak. "We spend the summer together making out, playing catch—because that's very important, you know, to play the best game known to man—eating ice cream, and waiting for a very important piece of mail."

"What mail?"

"I sent in an application to Northern to see if I could attend. You see, this truly amazing girl I'm in love with is thinking about going there, and I can't be without her."

Bella exhales, her eyes on mine. She runs her hands down my chest, pushing me against the couch, and dives into a kiss full of passion and hope and love.

**-NSID-**

"She's the best pitcher ever! Ever, ever, ever!" Renee exclaims right in my ear. She's got my hand in a death grip.

"Charlie taught her well. Both of us," I say, eyeing Charlie.

"I haven't seen you play in so long, Edward, but from the looks of these playoffs, Bella's a bit better than you. I mean, you're sitting in the stands, and she's out there winning the game, so . . ."

"I believe your ex-wife just insulted me."

"Don't look at me," Charlie says, laughing. "You mentioned the ex-wife part; there's nothing I can do about what she says."

Renee turns her mischievous eyes on me. "I'm just teasing you. I have to because if I flirted that would be weird because I've seen your penis bef—"

"Renee!" Charlie rarely raises his voice. This is weird.

"What? I changed a bunch of his diapers. It's true!" she defends. Renee is a little bit odd, a little bit too much, and a little bit inappropriate. It's strange how someone who will say anything created Bella, who's cautious with her words.

"How about we focus on the game?" Mom says, shaking her head at her good friend.

"He's cute, Esme. You did good." Renee squeezes my hand on the word cute, and I'm a little squicked out.

"Well, you did good, too. Huh, Edward?" Mom asks.

"Bella's beautiful," I reply.

"Awww, will you make me some green eyed grand babies? Oh, wouldn't their kids be cute?" Renee asks, looking straight at Mom. Mom laughs with her friend, but Dad jumps in.

"Let's get them into college first, okay?" Dad says. He looks much more comfortable at this game in jeans and a school tee, but his face is screaming why do I have to be around this strange woman?

"She's already going; she gets to play softball! Oh, and can you believe that scholarship for Northern? I was so surprised." Renee wraps my hand with her other one and pats it in a motherly way.

I stare at my hand dumbfounded. A pat on my back makes me turn my head. Katie's smiling softly at me. She nods, and Caleb sits on my lap, giving me a hug. She knew? And she didn't tell me? Bella's going to Northern. It's a sure thing now.

I look in my mom's direction, and she smoothes her hand over my head in a comforting manner. I nod pathetically, trying to convince myself that everything will be okay. That Bella and I will be okay. I will get in, or we'll do long distance. It'll work.

I remember the time she was considering moving in with her mom, and we cried on her doorstep for hours. I promised her my rock collection and my desserts for a year. She stayed with Charlie. But I don't think anything like that will help this time around.

Caleb gets squirmy in my lap as he cheers and claps, his little hands cupping his mouth while he boos the other team even though we're up to bat. I do my best to focus on the game, and, with the cheering section around me for Bella, I manage.

**-NSID-**

The game ends abruptly when Bella's pitch is spot on and the batter slams it up and high. It drops right back down into the left fielder's open mitt, and we win. State champions two years in a row. I'm so proud.

Our families stay put in the stands, but not me. I hurdle fences and traipse through squealing, jumping girls to get to Bella. She spots me, her smile beautiful and large, and I gather her into my arms, hugging her fiercely. "You were so great, State champ!"

"I was, wasn't I?"

I shut up her bragging with a sloppy kiss. When she wraps her dangling legs around my waist, we hear some whistling, and Bella pulls back, embarrassed. "No you don't," I whisper against her mouth before slipping my tongue inside. Our mouths need to celebrate her win.

When she pulls back, breathless and in a little bit of shock, she simply says, "You."

I squeeze her tight against me. "You love me, I know," I say.

She laughs and smacks a kiss on my lips. "Never said I didn't."

I am so freaking in love with this girl.

Bella meets us all outside the locker rooms when she's finished cleaning up. My family, including Katie and Caleb, and hers make a big display at the downtown pasta buffet with all our whooping and hollering. Bella doesn't seem to mind, though, and smiles brightly. Happiness looks good on her. I can't take that away, so when we're alone for the night on her porch swing, I kiss her and never mention her plans for school.

**-NSID-**

Sunday dinner is on, and the Swans, plus one Renee Higgenbotham, are invited. Garrett shows up with a date—Lauren, and we all pause when she enters the room. She's just as pretty as I remember, but what's shocking is the man standing next to her looks different. His scruff—gone. His sarcastic grin—gone. His incessant teasing of myself and my sister—gone. In their place are conversation, courtesy, and general interest in the individuals at the table. Huh. I like Lauren.

Once we're eating dessert, Lauren turns her attention to Bella and me. "What are your plans for next year?" she asks.

Bella looks to me, her eyes sad. It's awful she doesn't feel like she can tell me that she's definitely going to Northern. Doesn't she trust me by now? Haven't I proven myself to her? I guess not, so I speak up. "Bella's got a full ride to Northern, but more importantly Carmen de Santo teaches there. She's, uh, she's like Bella's idol. Rightly so. Worked for the Diamondbacks, but now she mentors. I've applied, too, but I'm waiting to hear back."

"Wow, so, you're in this relationship for the long haul?" Lauren asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

Renee clasps her hands under her chin and tilts her head, looking a little swoony.

"Interesting," Lauren adds even though I thought we were done with our conversation.

"How so?" Bella asks, and everyone's curiosity is piqued now. All other side conversations stop. Even Caleb looks intent on Lauren's answer.

"It looks like even though you look so much like your brother—although a little bit more handsome, I must say—" Garrett groans. "You are not too much like him."

"I think I lucked out not having to spend too much time with him. Our age difference helps," I say, laughing.

"And I tell him what to do," Katie says proudly.

"He's a good kid," Mom says.

"I haven't had any complaints," Dad adds. "He makes good grades, stays out of trouble. He's college bound." Okay, now this is getting weird.

"He's upfront. Plays a good game," Charlie adds.

"And he's loyal," Bella says. She leans in for a peck, and I deliver. I'm shocked. It's very much on display for everyone around us, but I don't mind. My girl wants to kiss me, so I let her.

**-NSID-**

Later, in my bed with Bella draped over me, she whispers quietly, her voice shaky, "What are we going to do?"

"What do you want to do?" I ask, stroking her arm.

"Well, you missed tryouts. You won't be eligible for ball until next year. I don't want you to miss out on anything. But . . ." She gnaws on her lip and catches my eyes. "I want you to come with me."

I want to say 'yes, dear' but can't because I don't know if I can go with her. So instead, I say, "I'll call Northern and see when that mail should be coming. And I don't care if I don't get to play ball. I never wanted it for a career. It's fun, but it's not everything. Besides, you're the better player. You should be the one playing, and it'll get you hookups for your future career."

"You're amazing."

I'm not sure how to respond to that, so I say, "We'll figure it out, Bella."

"I hope so," she says and snuggles closer, her face hiding against my shoulder. "How did you know about the scholarship?"

"Renee."

"I wanted to tell you; I just couldn't."

I rub her arm and have a hard time coming up with the right words. I'm sad she didn't think she could tell me. We should be able to tell each other anything, right? I think so. All I come up with to say is, "Why not?"

"Well, I was worried you'd ask me to stay at the U, and I'd say yes."

"And regret it your whole life?"

"I don't think I'd regret being with you, but I would wonder what I missed with Carmen. I've thought about it a lot."

"What else have you thought about?" I prop myself up on my elbow beside her and stroke her stomach while she speaks. She shivers at my touch and throws her arms above her head, arching her back. She's so hot.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes, of course. I know you, and I can usually predict what you'd do in a situation, but I can't predict what you'd think. Not . . . always . . . and definitely not recently. This, us, has changed you. I think."

"In a bad way?" She closes her eyes, lets out a shallow breath.

"No, not bad. Just different. Sometimes different is good," I say, jumping my hand from her stomach to her thigh, and she smiles, keeping her eyes closed. "But sometimes, different means the girl you've known your whole life is keeping secrets from you."

"I know. I'm sorry." She opens her eyes and gazes at me. "The thing is . . . okay, this is . . . I have wanted this for a long time. A. Long. Time," she says, putting her hand on mine to halt it. "And once I got it, I just worried that it wasn't real, that you'd change your mind, that it was just a phase. I didn't—I couldn't be sure you'd be this into it as I am."

"What are you talking about? You're the one who can't even say I love you. Of course I'm in this. I worry that _you're_ not in it. Or that you don't trust me, which is, I guess, the problem, huh?"

"No, I trust you. I do. I just didn't believe it. It was surreal. Gah, I mean, Edward Cullen was kissing me of his own free will and not because he was freaked out or horny or rebounding or whatever million other reasons it could be. You chose this." She swipes a hand across her body, like it's hideous, like she's offended by it. "On purpose. Over how many girls you could've had. It didn't seem right."

I shake my head and thread my fingers with hers, then tug, sitting us both up. "Listen to me. Okay, just listen. That night, the night of our first kiss, while I can't say I liked the way it ended or how it came about, doesn't mean I'd change it. Not for anything. It was the first time I felt everything was right, which was so weird, because everything was wrong. My girlfriend was being a pain in the ass, and my dad and mom were splitting. But then you, _you_ kissed me. Enthusiastically. And everything was better. Not better, that's not even the right word. It was, dammit, I can't think straight. It was what I needed. You are what I need, Bella, and I wouldn't give that up for anything. Hell, even if I don't get into Northern, I'll go with you. I can hang in community college and then reapply. I don't care; engineering is engineering. I was going to the U because Garrett did. I was being lazy. But you looked into Northern. You have a reason to go there. And so do I. That reason is you, and it's good enough for me, so would you please, please, stop minimizing my feelings for you and my commitment because I want this. I want you. In every way imaginable. Okay?"

Bella's mouth is on mine in a second, and I'm being pressed flat to my mattress. She writhes against me and plays with my tongue, waking my body and winding me tight. "Why did we wait so long to do this?" she asks, her panting loud and heavy and hot in my ear. I don't want it to stop. I don't want her to stop, so I keep moving her hips with my hands. It feels so good.

"Because we're stupid." I catch her lips and move my hips to match hers. We're insatiable. Her kiss stops abruptly as she shudders, mouth open before devouring mine. Damn.

"I do," she says against my lips and nods, her forehead pressing against mine. Our breathing slows together, and my body winds back down. She moves to roll off me, but I keep her there; I like her weight on me.

"I know you do. You don't have to say it."

"I want to."

"You will. Anyway, I'm concerned about you being able to tell me anything, not just three little words."

"I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have kept it from you. It hurt to do it. Sometimes, I just felt this pain in my chest, and I couldn't breathe."

"But you know I'd be okay, right? That we'd deal. We know how to deal."

"I know. I didn't want you to have to, though."

"Bella, I'd do anything for you."

She winds her fingers into my hair and smiles shamelessly. "Mmm, you just did."

"I did. Damn right, I did."

"You're good at everything." She tugs my hair playfully. "It's kind of annoying."

"Well, I'm glad to be annoying if it blisses you out."

"Who says I'm blissed out?"

"Oh, please, you told me just the other day I looked stupid just thinking about you naked. We're not even close to being naked, but that doesn't matter. I'm that good." We laugh together at my lameness. "Go look in the mirror and tell me you don't look dumb."

"Dumb, happy? Or dumb, dumb?" She makes a face.

"Edward dumb."

"Nice."

"It's got a good ring to it."

Bella laughs and fiddles with her knee sock elastic. "I should write it. Right here," she says, running her finger along the outside of her knee sock.

I follow suit and find my fingers tickling her inner thigh. "I love it. I love you."

Bella leans down for a quick kiss. I know she has to leave soon since her mom's at home, but I entice her to stay for a moment longer. There are other ways to bliss her out, and we were just getting started.

**A/N: Thank you for your continued support and shout outs. I'm loving all the Esme/Carlisle love from last chapter. **** I'm enjoying your reviews and spam. I've gotten some great pics of Bella in her knee socks. Thanks for that! And thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter 22 Toss, Moss, Loss

**Playlist: ****Get What You Give by New Radicals**

**Word Prompts****: Toss, moss, loss**

**Chapter 22**

Tuesday, after a long day of school—having finished half of my finals—I come home to my dad sitting on the couch, reading the paper. Chilling. It's weird.

"Hey, you're home," I say, voice laced with confusion.

"Yeah, I came home to get some important paperwork and caught the mailman. This came for you." He holds up a large manila envelope with the Northern seal on it. I jump over the couch, landing beside him. "I didn't want to miss it. I've missed too much." He tosses it over.

Wow.

I rip open the envelope and pull the stack of papers onto my lap. Dad chuckles at my enthusiasm. "Dear, Mr. Cullen, we are happy to inform you . . . I got in! I got in!"

"Of course you did. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome. I also wanted to talk to you about your future."

"My future?"

"Yes. How do you feel about having less of an inheritance?'

"I have an inheritance?"

"Well, I've been working on it, yes. I . . ." He scrubs his head with his hand and looks me directly in the eye. "When Katie and Greg bought a house, I gave them a hefty down payment as a present. And I plan on doing the same when Garrett buys a home. But I'm thinking about—no, I want to do something that won't make that a possibility for you. I know that's not fair, and I don't want to create tension between you and your siblings, but I just think . . ."

I stop Dad with my hand raised. "Will this plan help out you and mom? Will it make her happy?"

"Yes, I believe so, yes."

"Then do it. Don't worry about me and some random amount of money I didn't even know about or expect. Worry about your marriage and not me. I'll be fine."

"And Bella?"

"Bella's got a scholarship, so we won't have to pay back student loans," I say.

"You won't either; I can help with college expenses."

"That'll be great."

"So, I noticed you said _we_ won't have to pay student loans."

"I did." The thought of my future with Bella makes me giddy, and I can't hold back my smile.

"Do you have something to tell me?" Dad asks, like I've got some juicy gossip. I don't. Not yet. Not for a long time.

"Do _you_ have something to tell _me_?"

"No." He grins like he's got something to hide. I hope it's good news.

"Okay, then."

"Okay. Now, go call your mother. She keeps sending me texts. She is dying to talk to you."

I stand to head to my room, smiling like a loon, but stop halfway down the hall. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" he asks from the couch.

"Don't save anymore money for me, okay. Take Mom somewhere instead."

Dad nods and smiles softly. He seems to like the idea. And I know Mom will. She's been talking about returning to the Caribbean for as long as I can remember. They went there on their honeymoon.

When Mom gets on the phone, it's: "Well?"

"I got in, and I'm going."

Her scream hurts my ear drums, so I hang up. She calls me a minute later to lecture me about the importance of living on my own for a while and birth control. Yeesh.

**-NSID-**

I hop the back wall quickly and jog toward the Swans' backdoor, my foot plopping in one of Sandy's landmines. Great. She barks at me when I curse. I used to like that dog, too.

I twist and turn in the patchy grass to rid my shoe of the foul stench. I do the best I can and open the back door. Charlie's standing there with a mug in hand, staring at me.

"Were you watching the whole time?" I ask, exasperated.

"Yep, that was some fancy footwork you got there. I can see why Bella chose that football player to dance with over you."

I growl my frustration.

"It's your fault you didn't ask her, and it's your fault you don't look where you step. I've never seen someone step in so much shit my whole life. Seems like it happens to you all the time."

"Gee, thanks."

"Just stating the facts. And speaking of facts, she's not here. Shopping with her mom for some . . . stuff."

"Of course. I only have the best news ever and—"

"You're becoming a monk?"

"I got into Northern," I say, feeling like I'll burst with happiness, like a piñata full of fireworks. I can't even be bothered by his dig.

"That's . . ."

"It's what, Charlie? What?"

"Great. It's just great."

"Better me than someone else, right?"

"I guess." He tips his drink back then mumbles, "Rather it be no one."

"You're a dad, so that sounds about right."

"You know what sounds about right?"

"What?" Oh boy.

"You won't ever do anything to or with my daughter unless she says it's okay. And you won't interfere with her studies, and you won't, won't, won't break her heart or do anything stupid to harm her in any way."

"That sounds about right."

"I thought so."

"So where is she?"

"Victoria's Secret," he mutters.

"Okay." My grin is huge and unstoppable. I pull my cap low and stare at the tile to try to hide it. It doesn't help.

"Shut up," Charlie says, all disdain, then, "I really wish I could hate you."

"Thanks, Charlie. Can I wait here?" I bounce on the balls of my feet, excited at the prospect of seeing Bella soon and telling her the good news.

"I guess." He says it like he'd rather be strung up and eaten slowly by ants.

**-****NSID-**

Bella shows a half hour later loaded with bags, laughing with her mom. It's good to see them getting along and doing things together. There's always been tension due to Renee's disappointment that Bella wasn't excited by girly things. Now it seems as though it's vanished.

"Hey," she says, walking to the couch and bending over me for a hello kiss.

Charlie turns his head away. So mature, that one.

"Guess what?" I hop up, invading her personal space, beaming.

"What?" she asks and places her hand on my chest like she doesn't mind that I'm in her dance space. Yes, I've been letting Bella chose our movies more often. Big deal.

"I got in." I grab her shoulders in my excitement and give them a squeeze.

She blinks rapidly, looking confused momentarily before saying, "You got in? To Northern?"

I nod, and her scream rivals my moms. She jumps onto my hips and plants tiny kisses all over my face.

"Good grief," Charlie grumbles and walks away.

Renee on the other hand stands there like a voyeur with a long winded awww. It's pretty awkward, but I try not to let it bother me.

Bella catches me looking toward her mom and leads me to her room.

"This is the best day ever. Sit," she commands.

I fold my legs underneath me on top of her bed and let my eyes wander her room. Something's different, I think.

I spot a new Northern banner the size of a postcard hanging above her nightstand. I wonder what else is different and scan the space. When I include the ceiling my eyes go wide. There I am—all twenty-two by thirty-four inches of me in uniform. I'm hanging there, looking down on her while she sleeps. Creepy but kind of hot.

"When did you do this?" I ask, grinning. "I like it, by the way."

"My mom asked me where it was and I missed it, so I put it back up, um, in a better place. You know, where it could be, um, useful, or whatever."

"Useful," I echo. My girl uses my image to . . . I can't even. I want to moan and scream yes! And find the other missing poster. In fact, I am not leaving here without a supersized Bella tonight. Damn, what a great idea. Why didn't I think of it?

"Mmm hmm." Her eyes grow shy, and she looks away from me then changes the subject. "I finished my finals." She hangs some shirts sporting price tags in her closet, then turns to face me, hands on her hips.

"You're done? Sucks. I have two more."

"One was a paper I'd already finished and the other, an art project. I'm done. So there's that. And guess where I just was?"

I tap my lip, pretending to think, then blurt, "Somewhere buying hot lingerie for me?"

Her face falls, and her arms drop lifelessly to her sides. I giggle at her expression. So cute. "Your dad told me," I admit.

"Ew!" Her eyes slant to the door like he'll come inside and do something even more embarrassing.

"Aw, don't think about him. Think about me." I reach out my long arm, extending my fingers and tug her toward me. My hand finds purchase on her waist, my face in her tee-covered cleavage. "Admiring you. And your new pretty things." It's muffled due to the location of my mouth, which really wants to see some action. I nibble at her shirt for fun.

"Fine," she huffs, then adds, "Want to see?"

"Duh!"

She dumps her hot pink bag right onto my head, shoving my shoulder, so I'm no longer pressed against her. Boo, but not so bad since a bra strap dangles before my eyes. It's red. Nice.

"There's this one," she says, holding up a black lace something or other. "And this one." She adds a turquoise bra to the mix, bouncing it up and down in front of my face. "And more behind you. It turns out all the ones I had were too small. Not a bad problem, right?"

"No, I don't think so. No." I move in again and nuzzle myself between her breasts and sigh. This is a nice place to be. Soft, warm, cushiony. I could live here. "I like these."

She giggles at my confession and runs her hands through my hair while she speaks. "I didn't really pay attention. I'm mostly in my sports bras anyway."

I look up and grin, keeping my chin pressed against her chest. "No complaints from me about anything having to do with these."

"No complaints?"

"Maybe one."

"Okay."

"No fashion show?"

She shoves my shoulder again. "No way. You'll get to see these live and in real settings. I'm not an exhibitionist."

I throw myself backward on her bed. "As long as I get to see them on you, I guess it's all right."

"You will. At Northern." She plops beside me on her belly, her ankles high in the air knocking against each other.

"At Northern," I say, smile huge as can be.

"Holy hell, we're doing this." Her eyes go wide, and she gapes at me.

I pull her to me, saying, "We are," and I kiss her slowly for as long as I can without letting her go. Eventually, we part, lips soft and warm. Relaxed. Dizzy with giddiness.

"So Alice got something cool today." She plays with her bottom lip, tapping it.

"Alice? Screaming-in-my-face Alice?"

"It was over the phone, but yes. And she's really nice. We're thinking about rooming together at Northern."

"Alice is going to Northern?" _And living with you? I'm not sure I like this. _

"Yeah. Anyway, she got the secret key for the water park." Her eyes are alight with excitement.

"How'd she score that?"

"It's her grad present from her boyfriend."

"How'd Jasper get it?"

"How does any senior get it? I don't know. Just listen." She flicks my ear, and I pinch her side, making her squeal.

"I'm sorry. I'm still distracted, thinking about you in all of this stuff."

She smiles knowingly. "She invited us to go tonight."

"I have finals; I should study."

"You got into Northern. We're teenagers. We never do anything remotely like this. It'll be fun. Dangerous. Sexy." She kisses me slowly and drags her teeth across my bottom lip. Hell, yeah. But seriously, how is a little kids' water park sexy? I have no clue, so I ask her.

"I'll wear one of these." She grabs a handful of bras next to me and holds them up, giving me her evil genius smile.

"Deal. What time?"

"I don't know, but I'll pick you up."

"How 'bout you sneak in my window? In only this." I hold up the first thing my fingers find. A tiny pair of bright green underwear.

She falls into my chest in a lust-filled haze. Either that, or she thinks I'm so dumb, she's giving up to shut me up. I'm going with the former.

**-NSID-**

It's eleven forty-five. I'm lying in bed staring into Bella's beautiful face plastered on my ceiling. She's surrounded by glow in the dark constellations, which give her tan skin an angelic hue. As much as I love it all, I wish she were really here. And then she is. She slips through my window in tiny running shorts and her red-striped knee socks. She's wearing a light gray undershirt. I think it might be mine. Or was mine. She hops onto the bed and crawls over to me, a slinky grin adorning her face. Who needs lingerie? Those damn socks and Bella on her hands and knees does the trick.

"Hi," she whispers, straddling me and kissing me deeply. Her hand starts on my chest and works its way down, down, down, until—"Well, hello."

"Yes, hello."

"Are you ready?" she asks coyly.

"For anything," I say. "I like you coming into my window. You should do it more often."

"Do what? Window entering or this?" she asks, moving her hand just how I like it. I can't respond because my head's thrown back, and I've turned into a mouth breather. I'm so easy, it's pathetic.

"We should go."

My head snaps up, my eyes on her, pleading. "No. Not yet."

"Not yet," she agrees and finishes what she started.

**-****NSID-**

"You're late," Alice barks.

"And we don't care," Bella says, swinging our hands back and forth.

"Ew, don't tell me."

"I won't."

"I know. You never do." She walks away from us, then turns back to say, "Hey," to me, so I give her a small wave. Honestly, she scares the crap out of me, so that's all I can manage.

"Who else is here?" Bella asks as Alice walks in front like she owns the place, like it's not a public park I've been to a million times before.

"Just a few friends."

We round the corner, and the place is packed with soaked teenagers. Loads I've never seen before. Some I have. Jake being one of them. He waves to Bella and bounds over like a dumb puppy dog giving her a sloppy wet hug.

"Down boy," I say, sliding my hands around Bella's waist, holding her close to me.

"Why don't you just pee on me, Edward? I don't think he got the message."

I wiggle my nose in embarrassment.

"Come play. It's your game anyway." Jake thrusts a thumb over his shoulder, and, sure enough, there seems to be some semblance of a water themed baseball game. Each gadget acts as a base. The ground spigot is homeplate, and if you stand there long enough, water sprays right up your groin. These animals are crazy, but it seems like fun, so Bella and I join in.

I'm up, and Jasper hands me the yellow plastic kids' bat. Bella took the other team, the traitor, and pitches the wiffle ball right at my head. The ref, Alice, is sitting behind me eating a bag of chips, staying dry, laughing.

"You gonna call anything here? A warning? Something?"

"Nah, you deserved it."

"For what?" I bellow.

She shrugs. "Being pretty?" I can't believe I'm going to have to spend time with her in college.

I _hmph_ and return my attention to my girl who is cackling at something the first baseman said. It's some guy I don't know, wearing a wet, white undershirt that's clinging to him. I hold the bat between my knees and pull my shirt off. I gotta compete somehow with this tool.

"Nice, dong, Cullen." _Alice._ She is so annoying. How anyone in student government ever listened to her is beyond me.

Once she sees the bat's placement, Bella belly laughs, doubling over, clutching her stomach. Well, she was a good girlfriend before we got here.

I pull the bat from my thighs and point it straight at her. _It's coming to you, Bella, that's right._ I situate myself, and just as she releases the ball, a stream of water hits me right in the crotch. It reaches high around my back and crashes down on my head, soaking me. I swing when I think the ball's in the right spot and take off to first.

I have no idea where the ball is, but I know I connected. I run like hell. I can't stop laughing because Bella's shrieking orders at her lame-ass team, and I'm barreling them down as I round second, then third, sliding as I go as though the ground's covered in slippery moss.

I head home. A sharp spray hits my face—someone's aiming one of the toys directly at me to destroy my vision—but I don't play light ever. I play hard and run through it.

As I reach home, Bella slams into me, taking us both down. She's on top of me, her front pressed to my back, and everyone is shouting and laughing at us. I turn beneath her, capturing her in a kiss. Her smile's touching mine when I'm done. She doesn't even have the ball.

"You're safe. Baseball players are nuts," Alice says. "But that bra's pretty, Bella."

"What?" Bella whispers to me, shocked. We both look, and her green bra is quite visible through the light gray of her shirt now that it's wet. There's a loud whistle, and we both cover her breasts with our hands at the same time.

Alice laughs her ass off behind us. I hate that girl.

It's time to go, I think. I don't need anyone leering at my girl.

We head home, buzzing with energy, all wet and sloppy from our water play.

Bella's dripping, her skin shiny with water, her hair sticking to her face where it's come undone here and there. I push it back and kiss the water off her nose once we're at a light. I don't want to stop there, so I slide my hand under her shirt a minute later, needing my hand on that bra. It's such a great color.

Then I wonder if her underwear matches. Girls do that, right? I lean in, my hand high on her thigh. I have to know. Hell, I have to see. "Pull over."

"No." She swats at my hand, but I grab it and hold her wrist.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't. And you shouldn't distract me while I'm driving, Texty Texterson."

I lean far over the console, my legs taking up so much space in her stupid small car. It's painful. I suck it up and lick her slick neck. She snaps her head to me then back to the road. I continue higher and nibble on her earlobe. She bites her lip, trying to be strong, trying to ignore me until I sneak my hand between her legs.

She lets out a breath and pulls over, putting the car in park. Without preamble, she launches herself onto my lap and promptly slams her knee into the side of the door, cursing. "Ow! This is a terrible idea."

"I know, sorry. Just kiss me, and we can go . . ." _But show me your underwear first._

She rubs her knee, scowling. I get to work on her neck. She always gets breathy when I hang out there. She shivers when I run my hands beneath the fabric of her shorts. And damn, there's lace. I love all this lace. It's very new for us. I've only seen cotton and more cotton and some lycra. Not that I minded, but this is soft and silky and—

"What are you doing?" she asks, hands braced on my shoulders, looking down on me, her wet ponytail slapping me in the face.

"I can't stop touching these fancy pants."

She collapses on top of me, clinging to my head. We must look so stupid all cramped up in this car meant for Runaway Ralph. "You really like 'em, don't you?"

"Yeah, is that—too guy or something?"

"I do realize you're a guy. But you, I mean, you didn't seem to mind my older bras and stuff."

"No, I liked those, too. I don't discriminate. I'm no lingerie-ist." I smirk at my dumb joke.

"Do you want to see them?"

I nod enthusiastically but wonder how in the hell I'm going to see anything in the two feet of space we've crammed ourselves into. Bella solves that problem by slipping into the backseat. "You coming?"

"I can't fit back there."

She slides her shorts off. Not an exhibitionist, my butt. "Your loss," she says, tilting her head, daring me to come and get it. Oh, I will.

Green. Bright green. Grass green through her tee and wrapped around her pale, long, lean, beautiful sex legs. I want them around me. I do my best to smoosh myself back there with her, but we give up after a few fruitless minutes of grunting and elbows in the eye and feet hitting windows. Making out in cars is dangerous.

We get home in one piece, and I walk her to her door, planning to kiss her and slip inside myself so I can sneak through her backyard to my house. I plant a soft goodbye kiss on her pliant lips, and the door jerks open, harsh light spilling onto us.

"Where the hell have you been?" The expression on Charlie's face causes me to take a step away from Bella and take my hands off her very wet, very see through top.

We're dead.

**A/N: Hi! The final chapter will be posted on Monday. Eep!**


	23. Chapter 23 Summer

**Playlist: The World is Ours by Denora**

**Word Prompt: Summer**

**Chapter 23**

Bella crosses her arms over her chest and plants her feet firmly in her bitch stance. "We were out."

"At this time of night? And what on earth are you wearing? I can see your—"

"Dad, it's no big deal. I was out with Edward, and—"

"No big deal? It's a school night! You have finals!"

"I finished my finals. If you had listened to me at dinner instead of watching the game, you would know that."

Charlie's eyebrows do something scary as he grits out, "It's still a school night. You're grounded!"

I hate when he yells at Bella. It doesn't happen often, but when it does it makes me want to choose a side, and I like them both.

"I am not grounded. You cannot ground me." Bella tilts her head in challenge.

"What is going on?" Renee asks, scratching her belly and yawning as she shuffles our way. "Hi, Edward."

I give a halfhearted wave. I don't want to be rude.

"Your daughter was out late traipsing around town, doing heaven knows what!" Charlie says.

"They just went to the water park," Renee says, turning away toward the kitchen. Wow, Renee can be cool.

Charlie spins, focusing his attention on Renee instead of Bella. "You knew about this?"

"You didn't?" Renee's nonchalant.

Bella and I enter the house. She makes a ruckus as she passes Charlie while I sneak in behind her trying to be invisible.

"I told you, Mom. I can't tell him anything. He freaks out. And it's Edward. You'd think he would trust us by now." She throws her arm out toward me like I'm no big deal. I guess I'm not in the grand scheme of things. And I'd keep Bella safe, that's for sure, not that she needs my help.

"Just Edward. Just Edward? Edward is a boy!" he shouts, then gruffly adds, "No offense, Edward."

"None taken." Now he's worried about my feelings? This is getting strange.

"I can see everything, which means he can see everything." He moves his whole arm up and down gesturing wildly at Bella's shirt.

"Well, did he like it?" Renee asks, and I break into a coughing fit. What the crap is going on in the Swan house tonight? This is crazy!

"Don't answer that," Charlie spits out. My eyes are wide; my lips closed tight. I'm not saying a damn thing.

"He loved it, just like you said he would. Thanks, Mom." Bella stands next to her mom, getting a side hug, and takes a sip of her mother's water.

This is bizarre.

"I—op—guh—ret—ppft." Charlie's given up. Me, too. I have no idea what's happening.

"You can't ground her, Charlie. I knew about it. And she's grown up. She's gonna be an adult in, like, a minute."

"Not true," Charlie grumbles.

"It is true," Bella says, munching on an apple she grabbed from the fruit bowl. Great, now I'm hungry. I gotta get home. Ramen sounds good. Or frozen grapes. Mmm.

"I called. I called you both. You didn't answer."

"We were at the _water_ park. You want me to ruin my phone?" Bella's being so rude. Normally, I would find it hilarious, but I'm afraid Charlie has more sway than Renee, and I don't want Bella grounded. It's nearly summer. That would suck worse than losing State. I wish she would dial it down some.

"I want to know where you are, young lady, and don't get sassy with me." See? She needs to chill.

Bella huffs. "We didn't do anything wrong. We went to the park to play on little kids' water equipment. Sure, it was late, but Mom knew, and I was with Edward, and he keeps me safe."

Charlie runs a hand through his hair. The speckles of gray seem to stand out more right now than ever before. His breathing's labored, and his pits are sweaty. Is this what having a daughter does to a man? No thanks.

"I'm not grounded, am I, Mom?"

"No, honey. Why don't you go to bed? It's a school night." Renee gives Charlie a pointed look. She is still in charge after all these years. Even in his own house. Interesting.

"Okay. I'm glad you're here," Bella says calmly, quietly. It's sincere.

"Me, too."

Bella walks to me boldly with a clear intention to kiss me in front of her dad. This is different from our end of game celebratory kisses. This is flipping her dad the bird. I'm terrified of what he'll do to me. But I'm more terrified of not being on Bella's side, so I stand stock still and hope I don't look like I'm about to pee my pants.

"Goodnight, Edward," Bella says. She runs her hands around my wet shoulders and into my hair, pulling me toward her. Charlie's eyes are burning a hole in my head. I have to make a quick get away when she's done in hopes he doesn't kick my ass.

Her lips are on mine fast and sure, and as much as I want to speed things up, I can't because as Charlie said, I am a boy, and I like kissing Bella. My arms wrap around her waist, and I give as good as I get, almost forgetting we have an audience. Almost.

Bella slips down the hallway and into her bedroom, and I'm left to fend for myself.

But not for long.

"Go home. Now." It's official: Charlie Swan hates me. And I didn't even deflower his daughter yet. That must be some kind of record.

I don't even say goodbye. I pass Renee, who's smirking. She's such a strange woman, but I have a new respect for her. I can see where Bella gets her toughness from. I arrive home in two point three seconds and release the breath I didn't know I was holding.

A light flips on when I get into the kitchen.

"Ack!"

"Sorry," Dad says, chuckling. "You okay? Manhood still intact?"

"Yeah."

"Charlie was so mad," he says, trying to hold in his laughter. I'm glad he finds joy in my fear, but this is suspiciously happy for him. I lean in, sniffing. He doesn't smell like alcohol. Hmm.

"He's scary as hell."

"You never saw your grandfather angry. Now he was scary. I avoided him as much as possible. Spent more time going in and out of your mother's window than I did using the front door."

"Really?" I grimace. TMI, Dad.

"Not that I condone that," he says, clearing his throat. "You are safe though, right?"

"Yeah. We were just at the park. We're fine."

"No, I mean, you're being safe? You have condoms or Bella's on birth control?"

"Oh, blah. Mom just gave me this lecture. It's not like that. We . . . never mind."

"You haven't?"

"No."

"Oh."

"It's Bella. I want to . . . I don't know . . . do it right."

"You will. You're a Cullen." Dad smirks, looking a hell of a lot like Garrett, and walks away. "Night, Edward," he says as he passes me and heads to his room.

"Weird night," I mumble to myself as I get out my frozen grapes, hoping they'll stave off nightmares of Charlie chopping my body into bits and throwing them into some ravine.

**-NSID-**

Bella apologizes the next morning for being so indignant with her dad. She was worried I'd been uncomfortable, which is nice because I was. But I'd never tell her that. She did what she needed to do. Plus, she didn't get grounded (Thank you, Renee!), so it's no big deal.

I finish up my first final and meet her at the end of the hall before lunch for our obligatory kiss. I'm surprised people aren't sick of us yet. We're not obnoxious PDA'ers like some people, but we're happy. Blindingly so.

On occasion Peter and Charlotte will look uncomfortable around us, like at lunch today.

"Can I have a sip?" I ask, nodding to Bella's Coke. She lifts it to my lips, and I take a slurp, eyes on her, smiling around my straw.

Charlotte points her spoon at me. "See?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Peter says.

"They're nice to each other. All the time," she says, glaring at her boyfriend.

"I'm nice," he grumbles, giving me a grimace with his mouth full of sandwich.

_Sorry, dude. Looks like you should be sweeter to your girl._ Then again, Bella and I are new. I don't know what it's like to date someone for so long. Peter and Charlotte have been together for over a year and a half. Perhaps I'll get lazy, too. Bella as well. Only time will tell. And we've got loads of it.

The thought puts a dopey grin on my face, and I turn it on Bella.

"What?" she asks, looking at me curiously while sipping her soda, her head tilted in that strange way of hers.

"Northern is what."

"Hmm . . ." She hums around her straw, her eyes smiling.

"Hmm . . ." I echo, tipping my baseball cap up and leaning in for a quick kiss. Okay, maybe our PDA _is_ that bad, but if it doesn't bother Bella, then it doesn't bother me.

"What time's the party Friday?" Marcus interrupts, clearing his throat when we don't come up for air.

"Seven," we both say simultaneously.

"You guys make me sick," Jane says, but she smiles despite her words.

"We can take 'em, babe," Marcus says, and the next thing I know both couples are macking in the cafeteria trying to one up us. High school is stupid. Thank goodness, it's almost over. I graduate tomorrow. _We_ graduate tomorrow. Hell, yeah.

**-NSID-**

The last day of school sucks. I'm stuck watching movies in class all day because what else are we going to do? I've watched half of an edited VHS tape of Dangerous Minds twice when the final bell rings.

Final bell.

It's about time.

After school Bella and I celebrate our freedom by making Gran Swan's most complicated cookie. There's chocolate squares, canned pumpkin, and milk involved. I don't know how any of it works.

Renee was going to help but had to run to the store to pick up the chocolate squares, so we're enjoying our alone time. Well, I am.

Watching Bella bake is hot. Watching Bella bake in my Cullen jersey is super hot.

She's lodged herself in the corner in her flamingo baking stance. This is such serious business that she's sweating a bit, her flyaway hair sticking to her forehead and bugging her. But she's in the zone, so she won't do anything about it.

I pull her hair up and off her shoulders in a messy ponytail. Holding it in my hand, I blow lightly on her neck.

"That's so much better, thank you," she blurts.

"You know I love you in my jersey, but you should just take it off. It might help." I give her another cool breeze on her neck.

"It might help you."

"I'm just thinking of your comfort."

"Sure you are." She cranes her neck to give me a swift kiss before stirring the eggs and butter together. "Sugar, please?"

"I'll give you anything you want." I smooth a kiss over her neck and smile against the soft, sweet spot.

"Sugar, please." She persists.

"I think it might be . . ." Reaching around her, I unbutton the top button of the jersey and tug it away, peering over her shoulder and down the front. "In here maybe. Hmm." I undo another one and let my hands roam this time from the bottom up.

Bella drops her spoon and gives in. She melts into me, leaning against my chest.

"I'm positive there's some sugar in here. I know that's where I'd keep it. All the best things are in here."

"All?" she breathes.

"Okay, some. Some of the best."

"Should finish these before my mom comes back from the store."

"Yeah, finish," I mumble against her skin, letting my hands smooth over her torso, sweeping inside her basketball shorts. Her flamingo perch fails, and she nearly topples sideways. Oops.

"Edward, you have a one track mind."

"Never said I didn't."

"It's really hot." She picks up her spoon and starts to stir again, though it's not very convincing. "I mean it's getting hotter. I mean . . ."

"Why don't you take a break?"

"I'm almost done."

"You will be soon." I drag my hand down her inner thigh.

A chill runs through Bella's body, and she shakes it off, shaking me off.

"My mom is coming back home. We can't . . . I can't . . ."

"Okay," I say, tilting her head. "Sugar?"

She gives me my favorite kind of kiss: familiar, sweet, and warm, leaving my body toasty and wanting.

I slowly detach myself from Bella and hand over the sugar container. "You do look hot."

She turns her head and smirks.

"Like temperature hot. Or both. I can take over," I offer.

"And ruin all my hard work? Forget it."

"Hey, I can cook."

"Uh huh."

"Well, I can try. Practice makes perfect, right?"

"Sure," she says. Then steps away from the bowl. "Fine."

She disappears while I scan the recipe. "One tbls of pumpkin pie spice," I mutter. "What's a TBLS?"

"Tablespoon," Bella says, rounding the corner and pulling an elastic around her hair. She washes her hands and stands next to me, looking amused. "Go ahead then. Figure it out, future engineer. Make me some cookies, boy."

"Just watch." I crack my knuckles and pick up a measuring cup so I look like I know what I'm doing. "These hands are magic."

"I know." She stands beside me and instructs me on what to do, humming the I Dream of Genie theme song absently between directions. As we're putting the first batch in the oven, Renee returns home, laden with groceries.

"Look at you guys, all domestic. I was worried I'd walk in on something inappropriate." She smiles as she says this. Such a strange woman.

"Sorry to disappoint, Mom. It's just me, Edward, and sugar." Bella pinches my butt before finding the chocolate squares in the mess of groceries.

**-NSID-**

Bella and I graduate in the evening and find each other through the fray in our goofy gowns, our caps lost in the ridiculous obligatory throw. She flashes me her outfit underneath—jeans and my JV Cullen jersey, creating a surge of memories from earlier in the day. She's awesome.

My family finds us first and, to my surprise, Garrett hugs me.

"Um, okay," I say, because he's never affectionate.

"Look, I know I'm, whatever, just you've always been this annoying little brother who got everything he wanted plus all my hand-me-downs even when I wasn't ready to hand them down."

"Uh huh." My eyes search for Lauren, who's chatting with Katie, Caleb on her hip. She fits right in, like she never left. But I still wish she'd come interpret Garrett speak. What is he saying?

"The point is I'm a jerk. I've been a jerk, and the truth is, I've been miserable and without my annoying little brother who was born by mistake, mind you, I never would've had the courage to speak to Lauren again, let alone try to win her back. So, er, whatever." He slugs me in the arm and shrugs.

Ah, now I see. _Thanks, Edward, you're cooler than I thought. And not useless after all._

"No problem," I say.

Mom squeals and hugs me tight, her arms soothing as they rub my back. Man, I miss her. I wish she'd come home to stay. I hope all those dates Dad's been taking her on are paying off.

Katie mouths, "I love you" from afar and has Caleb blow me a kiss. Greg gives me a card and a handshake.

Dad's got his arm wrapped around Mom, who's talking to Renee, and I don't think he's coming to say congrats anytime soon, so I seek out Bella again but am side tracked by Charlie.

"Got a minute?" he asks, and I nod, afraid to speak up. He was not happy the last time we spoke.

"Look, Bella is my daughter, and I can be a little . . ." He blows out a puff of air and starts again. "You're like my own kid. I mean, you helped entertain my mother, you played with Bella everyday when you were little, and you were a good friend to her. You've made you're share of mistakes, I'm sure, but I . . . Gran loved you, and Bella loves you, and I wouldn't mind it if someday in the future—way, way in the future—you became a part of this family."

I nod and duck my head, trying to hide my grin. What's with all the sad, manly apologies tonight?

"You know you have no hat to hide under right now, and I can see that stupid Cullen smirk on your face," he grumbles.

"Sorry, Coach. Hereditary," I say to appease him.

"It's fine, just, take care of my little girl."

"I will."

We walk the few steps together and find ourselves on either side of Bella. She slides her arms around both of our waists, giving each of us a squeeze and a warm smile.

After a few pleasantries between our families, we part when our parents separate us for a celebratory dinner.

I'm at a fancy Italian restaurant, Katie by my side, Garrett across from me, their significant others next to them. Our family's growing, and everyone seems so happy. Even my mom. I take in her serene expression and look toward my dad. He's goofy looking. What did I miss?

"So Caleb just went all by himself. I didn't have to wipe him or anything," Katie says, Greg grinning beside her.

"That's because he's a boy," Garrett snarks playfully.

Greg throws a napkin at him.

"What's going on, Mom?" I ask, interrupting the table banter.

"Um, nothing. Nothing." I know my mom so well; she's an awful liar.

I look to Katie who rolls her eyes. "Just tell him, Mom. He'll be happy for you guys."

"It's his night. I don't want take away any spotlight." Mom fiddles with her napkin on the table.

"Edward's always in the spotlight," Garrett interjects. "Let someone else have it for awhile." He gives me a genuine smile. It'll take me a while to get used to him being nice.

"Will someone tell me what's going on? It's good, right?" I ask Dad, turning toward him.

"Ask your mother," Dad says.

"Um, well, your dad's decided to take on a business partner," Mom says, a smile in her voice.

"I have a patient, Gladys, whose grandson was looking for a new office closer to home. His young family was suffering because of his long hours. We've decided to combine our forces."

"His workload will be cut tremendously," Mom says, eyes cheerful.

"That sounds perfect," I say. Good for him.

"Yeah, I hope so. He's a good kid, smart, has some great ideas on how to make things more efficient. It will affect my pay somewhat but not significantly, I don't think."

I look to mom, who's positively beaming. "That's not all, is it?" I ask.

"Dad's taking me to Nassau for two weeks." If my mother were the blushing type, I swear she would've.

"Wow."

"I tried to weasel my way in, but they said no," Katie whispers so everyone can hear. "So, don't bother asking."

"Girls' trip," Lauren suggests, and Katie gives her a high five over the table.

"Were you this cool the first time around? Because I like you. Don't screw this up, Garrett," Katie says, eyes narrowed.

"I won't. Edward will keep me in line," Garrett says.

His compliments are freaking me out.

"When do you go, Mom?" I ask, trying to get Garrett to stop looking at me with his body snatcher's kind eyes.

"Mid-June. Soon. And, well . . ." She looks to Dad, smiles, then turns back to me. "I've decided to let my lease go when it ends—"

"If things are going well," Dad finishes, looking hopeful.

And I feel hopeful. Things are getting better. For everyone.

After dinner, Bella and I hit up a couple grad parties but end up at the batting cages, keeping score. I've always been a better hitter than Bella, and it's fun to have the advantage. The competitiveness gets to her, though. It doesn't bother me, especially not tonight while everything is going so well.

"Hit the damn button," Bella barks, agitated with my better average.

"It's just for fun; don't get so upset."

"Get out of the cage and hit the button."

"No, I'm going to help you."

"I don't need your help." Her glare is sexy, making me want to get out of this cage or do dirty things in it.

"By the looks of the death grip you've got on that bat, I'd say you do."

"I hate you."

"You do not," I say, laughing and wrapping my arms around her. "If you're going to play ball at Northern, you'd better be the best hitter you can be. No one likes a crappy batting pitcher."

"Fine," she grumbles, then wiggles her butt against my crotch. That's just mean.

I position her hands, loosening them, and tuck her closer into my chest. She's warm, slightly sweating from our two rounds of hitting. She smells like baseball, and dammit if I don't want to pin her against the wire fencing and have my way with her.

I move her ponytail over her opposite shoulder and snuggle in close to her neck. "That's better. Don't think so much. Get out of your head. Feel the bat, hear the ball. Just know. Know it's a good one right before you swing."

"O-okay," she says quietly. I release her and smack the button.

I watch with rapt attention on the side of the cage as she hits every pitch, the crack of the bat against ball somehow putting fantasies in my mind. Ones that are making me lose control. So much so that Bella barely gets her helmet off before I attack her, pushing her up against the cage and covering her mouth with mine.

"I love batting practice so much," Bella pants against my mouth before kissing me again. Baseball is such a great sport.

**-NSID-**

"This is crazy," Bella says, entering my mom's apartment. Crazy is right.

The ceiling is covered in helium-filled balloons, a rainbow above us. Every flat surface is lit with tiny candles, giving the whole place a glow. If it weren't for the multi-hued balloons and streamers that hang from the walls, I'd think our moms were trying to make this party romantic.

"Isn't it great?" Katie asks, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She looks strange. Her face is made up but her lips are bare. It looks like she's dead or something.

"Do you need any help?" Bella asks.

"Yes, do you have any gloss?"

"Yeah." Bella pulls some from her pocket, and Katie applies it immediately.

"Thank you. All Mom has is that red crap, and I refuse to look like a whore."

"I do not look like a whore!" Mom yells from the kitchen.

"Who's a whore?" Renee asks, coming through the front door, hands full of dishes. "Here, Edward, grab these."

I take them from her hands and head to the kitchen, following her.

"My daughter thinks I look like a whore with my red lipstick. I've always worn red. It's my thing.'

"Uh huh. I remember," Renee says. I notice she didn't agree or disagree with my mother's supposed prostitute-like appearance. I think she looks nice. Maybe the color's a little bright, but it's fine.

"I don't miss you at all, Renee," Mom deadpans.

Renee slaps her butt as she passes with a, "Shut up, whore." Mom laughs and stirs her pot of deliciousness. I miss her cooking so much; I can't even be bothered by their display of Mothers Gone Wild.

The party picks up quickly when our friends and family arrive. The music's loud, and thank goodness all right, since the "DJ" that was hired is actually Lauren and Garrett with an iPhone and docking station. I was worried, but Lauren's a music buff, so it worked out well.

Bella and I dance with abandon, not caring about anyone else's presence. We stuff our faces with the Mexican buffet our moms put together and chat with our friends for hours.

Alice comes around every now and then to scare the hell out of me, and Jake passes by with a new girl on his arm to smile and generally make me want to vomit with his eternal freakish happiness. Only he can get away with lying about sex, getting beat up by a girl, and still maintain a friendship with her. That dude is something else.

Emmett shows up loud and proud with his date at his side—a beautiful Rosalie, wearing makeup and looking so much older. It's weird, and I want to hit Emmett for it, but when I see him doing the chicken dance with her, I know it'll be okay. He's not a schmuck. And I have a feeling my dad and Charlie would go nuts on him if he did anything inappropriate.

Peter and Marcus are the only friends that seem normal to me tonight—since they generally leave me alone, as do their girls. Bella has a few teammates that show up, and they do their own thing as well. That's what I like: low maintenance friends. It's what I need since my family creates enough drama. Though, hopefully, that's in the past.

As the night wears on, Bella and I tire out, and plop ourselves on the couch to talk more privately. She's on my lap, my arms wrapped around her, her head tucked beside mine even though we're both facing the same way.

"Are you excited to meet Carmen?"

"You have no idea."

"I might have a little idea. I get to spend the next four years with you. I'm elated."

"You are so sweet," she says, tilting her head back to kiss me. With tongue. It's so good.

"You taste sweet," I say against her mouth, and she covers it, eyes wide.

"Edward," she scolds.

"What? S'true."

"Just . . . not here." She shakes her head, turning it back to the crowd.

"Where then?" I give her a squeeze for emphasis.

"You want to go somewhere?" She reaches her hand around my neck and plays with my hair.

"I could go somewhere." With that, we're on our feet, hand in hand, escaping our own graduation party. We do not care at all.

Bella drives us to Green Point. I haven't been here since I took Tanya the night I kissed Bella. It's bringing back all kinds of memories. Of Tanya not saying the right thing. Of Bella saying all the right things. I love her so much.

Bella sticks her ponytail through my E hat before exiting the car. Her hair swishes as she walks; I love that.

We saunter the short path to the picnic tables, which overlook the scenic view. The stars are out, lighting up the night, making my glow in the dark stand-in constellations seem foolish now. But I could never get rid of them. Besides, any stars plus the girl I love equals immediate romance.

Bella sits atop a concrete table, adjusting her socks. I stand before her, watching. She leans back on her hands looking up at the sparkling sky. She's so pretty. The soft line of her neck draws my attention, and I follow down to her curves until I'm staring at her teal-socked feet. I can't keep the smile off my face.

"I missed you today," she says absently to the twinkling lights in the dark sky. She spent the whole day with Renee since she's leaving tomorrow.

This is the point where most girls want a kiss, where most girls are speaking in code, but not Bella. Bella's telling me the truth. I know this because I feel the same way: I missed her today, too. It's getting more difficult to be without her even for short periods of time. I think about her constantly when I'm not with her and wonder how long it'll be before we're together again.

"I missed you, too," I say, sitting beside her, covering her hand with mine, my fingers stroking hers.

"Can I tell you something kind of weird?" she asks, voice soft.

"Always."

"When I was with Jake—"

"I take it back. Do I want to hear this?"

She turns her head, smiling. "Don't be such a wuss."

I keep my mouth closed and wait for her to speak.

"I finally felt like I was over you, over this."

"Never," I mouth, and she grins ear to ear, nodding.

"I spent so much time with Jake getting to know him, his family. He's a really sweet guy, and it could've worked." I grimace, and she adds, "It could have, but you ruined it. You kissed me, and all of those feelings I had hidden, stuffed inside me for all those years, just came pouring out—"

"Like a waterfall of love."

"Shut up." She elbows me, and I snag her hand, kissing it and tucking it into my chest. "My point is no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I dated, no matter how much I wanted it . . . he just wasn't . . . you."

"Nope. Jake's not me."

"He's not. He doesn't even come close."

"Good. I'm glad."

"I'm glad, too." She rests against my side, snuggling in, her socked legs curled beneath her on the tabletop. We sit, listening to nothing but our breathing, doing nothing but sitting, being. Because it's that easy with her.

Bella shifts slightly, wrapping her arms around me, playing with the hair on the nape of my neck. She pulls her cap off and places it on my head, pulling the bill down.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to get this back." Her lips are so close to mine.

"I like it on you. I miss it on you, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like the way your hair curls over your ears just beneath it."

"You noticed that, huh?"

"I notice everything."

"Like what?" I pull her onto my lap, my hands resting on her hips.

"Like the way you smile when we're kissing, and you're just happy not horny."

"I'm always horny."

"You know what I mean."

"All right. And . . ."

"And the way you pivot your toe before you swing. I know when that happens you'll get at least a double. It's the hottest thing—your control of that bat. And the flick of your arm when you throw the ball from your position to home. You get this look of, just, fury when that ball hits the catcher's mitt and you get your out. I think about that look all the time."

"Mmm," I say, nuzzling her neck and kissing her there softly. She smells so good. That vanilla has ruined me.

"And I notice the way your eyes drift over mine when you say you love me. You're not waiting for me to say it back. You're saying it because you want me to know. Because it's important to you that I know."

"Well, it is. I refuse to make my dad's mistakes. If I love you, you should know. I love you, Bella, I do."

She meets my mouth softly, her lips warm and molding to mine in a lingering kiss. It's familiar to me now, just like Bella.

"Remember when we started eighth grade, and you had to switch out of that math class?" she asks, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt.

"Yeah, and we ended up in bio together. That was great. I loved that Bunsen Burner."

Bella rolls her eyes but continues. "Mr. Selner told you to pick your seat. One was open next to Cara Franklin, the girl that—"

"Yeah, I remember her. She was so cute, then turned psycho stalker. Her tongue was weird."

"Well, there was another seat open next to me. You sat with me, even though you had the hugest crush on her at the time, and I think I knew then."

"Knew what?"

"That no matter what, no matter who you were with or who I was with, I'd always want to be with you." She takes a deep breath. "Because I loved you."

Bella runs her fingers lightly over my neck, her head low until she lifts it just so. "I love you, Edward," she whispers, her eyes on mine, serious and sure of the words she's just said. It's the best thing I've ever heard. And the best thing that's ever happened to me.

She presses me down against the table, sprawling out on top of me, and kisses me until the sun comes up.

As we say our goodbyes on her back doorstep in early morning light, I wonder what the summer will bring. What will we do? Where will we go? Will we get jobs? Will I have to ride in her stupid car every day? I smile against her lips, drunk on love and lust and so many different kinds of kisses.

"This game is better than baseball," I say, my voice groggy and needing to rest.

"That's blasphemy."

"Not when you and I are a team."

"True, and I'll make sure we win."

"I have no doubts," I say.

And that's the truth.

**A/N: Holy crap! Another story marked complete. And people read it and liked it. Fanfiction is weird. But I love it. And I love yooooooooooou! **

**Thank you to my prereaders and betas and playlist buffs! I could not do this without you. For serious. I mean, you've seen my first drafts made of garbage and have helped turn them into this. So thanks. Thanks for your kind words and motivation and your need of ALL THE THINGS! I hope I do you proud and continue to do you proud (and finish all the half written stories I have ****). **

**And thank you, dear readers. This experience is so fun because of you. The interaction I experience with you brings joy into my day, my life, and I thank you. You move me with your sweet words and thoughtful analysis of my own. I hope to see you again soon with a new story. In the meantime, find me on purelyamuse dot blogspot dot com, Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, WeHeatIt, and, of course, here. **

**I adore you so much I'd defend you with a bat. For reals, yo. **

**Purely**


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